POPE 
THE   ILIAD    OF   HOMER 

BOOKS  I.  VI.  XXII.  XXIV. 


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Browning's  Shorter  Poems. 

Burke's  Speech  on  Conciliation. 

Byron's  Childe  Harold's  Pilgrimage. 

Carlyle's  Essay  on  Burns. 

Coleridge's   The  Ancient  Mariner. 

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De  Quincey's  Confessions  of  an  Opium-Eater. 

Dryden's  Palamon  and  Arcite. 

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Goldsmith's  The  Vicar  of  Wakefield. 

Irving's  The  Alhambra. 

Longfellow's   Evangeline. 

Lowell's  The  Vision  of  Sir  Launfal. 

Macaulay's  Essay  on  Addison. 

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Milton's  Comus,  Lycidas,  and  Other  Poems. 

Milton's  Paradise  Lost,  Books  I  and  II. 

Pope's  Homer's  Iliad. 

Ruskin's  Sesame  and  Lilies. 

Scott's  Ivanhoe. 

Scott's  The  Lady  of  the  Lake. 

Scott's  Marmion. 

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Shakespeare's  Julius  Caesar. 

Shakespeare's  Macbeth. 

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OTHERS   TO    FOLLOW. 


ALEXANDER  POPE 


POPE 
THE  ILIAD   OF  HOMER 

I' 
BOOKS   I.  VI.  XXII.  XXIV. 


EDITED 

WITH  NOTES  AND  AN  INTRODUCTION 

BY 

ALBERT   H.    SMYTH 

PROFESSOR   OF  THE   ENGLISH   LANGUAGE   AND   LITERATURa 

IN   THE  CENTRAL   HIGH   SCHOOL    OF   PHILADELPHIA 

MEMBER  OF  THE   AMERICAN   PHILOSOPHICAL   SOCIETY 


THE    MACMILLAN   COMPANY 

LONDON:  MACMILLAN  &  CO.,  Ltd. 
1901 

All  rights  reserved 


»    r    '       *  ••  •8e« 

>      •         • 


•    •   '••   "  C(?PVklGHT,   1899, 

By  the  MACMILLAN  COMPANY. 


Set  up  and  electrotyped  January,  1899.       Reprinted  October, 
1899;  May,  1900;  March, August,  1901. 


J.  S.  Gushing  &  Co.  —  Berwick  it  Smith 
Norwood  Masa.  U.S.A. 


J    I 


CONTENTS 


PAGK 

Introduction vii 

Alexander  Pope       ,..,,.,.      xii 

Pope's  Versification xxiv 

Pope's  Place  in  Literature xxvii 

The  Homeric  Poems xxxii 

Suggestions  to  Teachers xlvii 

The  Text 1 

Notes 129 

V 


iyi94:739 


— V 


INTRODUCTION 


GoLDWiN  Smith  has  called  the  translation  of  Homer 
into  verse  "  the  Polar  Expedition  of  literature,  always 
failing,  yet  still  desperately  renewed."  The  com- 
parison is  just.  It  is  indeed  a  famous  and  difficult 
voyage,  undertaken  by  many  brave  and  spirited  adven- 
turers, but  with  complete  success  by  none.  The  most 
accomplished  scholars  and  poets  have  attempted  to 
convey  to  the  English  reader  the  resounding  lines  of 
Homer,  and  the  grace,  vigor,  and  dignity  of  Homeric 
life.  Chapman,  Hobbes,  Pope,  Cowper,  Derby,  Meri- 
vale,  Newman,  Worsley,  and  Bryant  have  exhausted 
their  scholarship  and  skill  in  the  task.  But  Homer 
still  defies  modern  reproduction.  "  His  primeval  sim- 
plicity is  a  dew  of  the  dawn  which  can  never  be  dis- 
tilled." 

Matthew  Arnold's  acute  and  suggestive  essay  "On 
Translating  Homer"  contains  much  practical  advice, 
both  in  negative  and  positive  counsels.  Mr.  Arnold 
believed  that  the  translator  should  be  penetrated  by 


vn 


Vlll  INTRODUCTION 

a  sense  of  four  qualities  of  his  author  —  "  that  he  is 
eminently  rapid;  that  he  is  eminently  plain  and 
direct,  both  in  the  evolution  of  his  thought  and  in 
the  expression  of  it,  that  is,  both  in  his  syntax  and 
in  his  words;  that  he  is  eminently  plain  and  direct 
in  the  substance  of  his  thought,  that  is,  in  his  matter 
and  ideas ;  and,  finally,  that  he  is  eminently  noble." 
For  want  of  duly  penetrating  themselves  with  these 
qualities  of  Homer  the  translators  have  failed  to 
render  him ;  Cowper  fails  in  speed.  Pope  in  plainness 
and  directness  of  style.  Chapman  in  plainness  and 
directness  of  ideas,  and  Newman  in  "  nobleness." 

According  to  Mr.  W.  J.  Courthope  all  English 
translations  of  Homer  may  be  said  to  be  comprised 
in  three  classes.  The  first  is  represented  by  Chapman 
and  is  the  method  followed  by  Pope's  predecessors; 
its  object  is  to  reproduce  the  sense  of  the  original. 
The  second  is  represented  by  Cowper  and  is  the 
method  followed  by  every  subsequent  translator;  its 
aim  is  "  not  only  to  reproduce  Homer's  sense  as 
literally  as  possible,  but  also  to  reproduce  his  style 
in  an  epic  manner  peculiar  to  the  English  language." 
The  third  is  the  method  of  Pope.  "  Pope's  purpose," 
says  Mr.  Courthope,  "  is  to  master  the  general  sense  of 
what  he  is  about  to  render,  and  then  to  give  this  in 
such  rhetorical  forms  as  his  own  style  requires,  omit- 
ting and  even  adding  thoughts  at  his  pleasure." . 


INTRODUCTION  IX 

In  every  great  poem  there  is  a  residuum  which 
cannot  be  transferred  from  one  language  to  another. 
In  the  case  of  Homer  the  vehicle  of  translation  and 
the  very  manner  of  modern  thinking  and  feeling  are 
alien  to  the  Homeric  character.  Chapman  is  faithful 
to  his  original,  but  his  loose,  archaic,  fanciful  style 
and  long  ballad-metre  are  out  of  keeping  with  the 
epic  elevation  of  the  Iliad.  Cowper  adopted  the  Mil- 
tonic  blank  verse  as  an  English  equivalent  for  the 
Greek  hexameters,  and  believed  that  in  his  transla- 
tion he  was  adhering  closely  to  his  original,  —  "the 
matter  found  in  me,"  he  said,  '^whether  the  reader 
like  it  or  not,  is  found  also  in  Homer ;  and  the  matter 
not  found  in  me,  how  much  soever  the  reader  may 
admire  it,  is  found  only  in  Mr.  Pope."  But  Cowper 
failed,  as  Mr.  Arnold  said,  to  render  the  bright 
equable  speed  of  Homer,  and  his  translation  is  dull 
and  monotonous. 

Pope  was  notoriously  no  Grecian.  He  wrote  to 
Parnell,  who  made  him  a  present  of  the  "Essay  on 
Homer"  which  is  prefixed  to  his  translation,  "You 
are  a  generous  author,  I  a  hackney  scribbler ;  you  are 
a  Grecian,  and  bred  at  a  University,  I  a  poor  English- 
man of  my  own  educating."  But  whatever  his  inac- 
curacies, Pope  succeeded  in  fascinating  the  world  with 
his  "clarion  couplets."  He  entered  into  the  action 
of  the  poem  and  told  the  story  with  grace  and  anima- 


X  INTRODUCTION 

tion.  "  A  pretty  poem,  Mr.  Pope,  but  it  is  not 
Homer,"  said  the  famous  Greek  scholar  Richard 
Bentley.  Nevertheless  Pope  had  so  caught  the  spirit 
of  adventure,  he  sympathized  so  genuinely  with  the 
bravery  of  the  heroes  and  entered  with  such  delight 
into  their  exhortations  and  invectives,  that  his  trans- 
lation leaped  at  once  into  popularity  and  has  ever 
since  commanded  the  praise  that  belongs  to  a  great 
original  poem. 

The  sonnet  is  famous  in  which  Keats,  who  knew  no 
Greek  though  he  was  deeply  imbued  with  the  spirit 
of  the  Greeks,  describes  his  rapture  on  first  looking 
into  Chapman's  Homer  :  — 

"  Then  felt  I  like  some  watcher  of  the  skies 
When  a  new  planet  swims  into  his  ken, 

Or  like  stout  Cortes  when  with  eagle  eyes 
He  stared  at  the  Pacific  —  and  all  bis  men 

Looked  at  each  other  with  a  wild  surmise  — 
Silent  —  upon  a  peak  in  Darien." 

Many  more  readers,  the  younger  ones  particularly, 
remember  the  rapture  of  their  first  introduction  to 
Homer  in  the  ringing  lines  of  Pope.  Emerson  used 
to  say  he  would  as  soon  think  of  swimming  the 
Charles  E-iver  every  time  he  went  to  Boston  as  of 
reading  all  his  books  in  their  original  tongue.  Pope's 
translation  is  a  great  English  classic,  and  it  embalms 
forever  the  supreme  ideality  of  Homer  which  veins  all 


INTRODUCTION  XI 

modern  literature.  Professor  Jebb  has  a  fine  phrase 
for  those  precious  things  of  art,  whether  literature,  or 
sculpture,  or  architecture,  that  have  been  recovered 
from  the  ancient  civilization.  He  calls  them  ''  salvage 
from  centuries  of  ruin."  The  Homeric  poems  saved 
and  transmitted  across  the  centuries  have  been  the 
foundation  of  human  culture  and  "  the  very  fountain- 
head  of  all  pure  poetic  enjoyment,  of  all  that  is  spon- 
taneous, simple,  native,  and  dignified  in  life." 

Frederic  Harrison  in  his  impatience  at  the  neglect 
of  Homer  and  the  eternal  works  of  genius  wrote  in 
his  admirable  little  volume  on  The  Choice  of  Books, 
^'  One  knows  —  at  least  every  schoolboy  has  known  — 
that  a  passage  of  Homer,  rolling  along  in  the  hexam- 
eter or  trumpeted  out  by  Pope,  will  give  one  a  hot 
glow  of  pleasure  and  raise  a  finer  throb  in  the  pulse ; 
one  knows  that  Homer  is  the  easiest,  most  artless, 
most  diverting  of  all  poets ;  that  the  fiftieth  reading 
rouses  the  spirit  even  more  than  the  first  —  and  yet 
we  find  ourselves  (we  are  all  alike)  painfully  pshaw- 
ing over  some  new  and  uncut  barley-sugar  in  rhyme, 
which  a  man  in  the  street  asked  us  if  we  had  read,  or 
it  may  be  some  learned  lucubration  about  the  site 
of  Troy  by  some  one  we  chanced  to  meet  at  dinner. 
It  is  an  unwritten  chapter  in  the  history  of  the  human 
mind,  how  this  literary  prurience  after  new  print  un- 
mans us  for  the  enjoyment  of  the  old  songs  chanted 


xii  INTRODUCTION 

forth  in  the  sunrise  of  human  imagination.  To  ask  a 
man  or  woman  who  spends  half  a  lifetime  in  sucking 
magazines  and  new  poems  to  read  a  book  of  Homer 
would  be  like  asking  a  butcher's  boy  to  whistle 
'  Adelaida.'  The  noises  and  sights  and  talk,  the  whirl 
and  volatility  of  life  around  us,  are  too  strong  for  us. 
A  society  which  is  forever  gossiping  in  a  sort  of  per- 
petual ^  drum '  loses  the  very  faculty  of  caring  for 
anything  but  '  early  copies '  and  the  last  tale  out. 
Thus  like  the  tares  in  the  noble  parable  of  the  sower, 
a  perpetual  chatter  about  books  chokes  the  seed  which 
is  sown  in  the  greatest  books  of  the  world."  (Harri- 
son, Choice  of  Books,  p.  29.) 

ALEXANDER  POPE 

An  interesting  allegorical  picture  painted  by  Hogarth 
for  the  Elephant,  a  public  house  in  Fenchurch  Street, 
London,  is  now  preserved  in  Sudeley  Castle.  It  rep- 
resents the  blindfolded  goddess  of  fortune  standing 
on  a  globe  elevated  above  the  earth,  and  holding  in 
each  hand  an  inverted  bag,  from  which  favors  and 
evils  are  descending.  Beneath  is  the  fast-flowing 
stream  of  life,  and  upon  the  bridge  stands  the  artist, 
while  Richardson,  the  novelist,  hands  him  a  bag  of 
gold.  Advancing  toward  the  place  where  the  benig- 
nant showers  of   fortune  are  descending,  Alexander 


ALEXANDER    POPE  xiil 

Pope  appears  in  a  car  drawn  by  a  swan  with  seven 
necks,  emblematical  of  the  trivlum  and  quadrivium  — 
the  seven  liberal  arts  and  sciences.  Following  the 
car  is  a  motley  crew  of  critics,  with  faces  distorted 
with  passion,  armed  with  sticks  and  spears,  typical  of 
the  lances  of  calumny,  with  which  they  are  about  to 
assail  the  poet.  Familiar  faces  are  visible  in  the 
crowd ;  Dennis,  Theobald,  Curl,  and  Mist  are  there, 
and  Gibber  the  laureate,  and  Henley  the  orator. 

The  poet  who  is  thus  between  kind  fortune  and  evil 
tongues  is  the  translator  of  the  Iliad,  and  the  author 
of  the  Dunciad.  By  his  translation  he  acquired  a 
European  reputation,  a  position  of  ease  and  indepen- 
dence, and  that  familiarity  with  the  leading  repre- 
sentatives of  the  English  aristocracy  which  was  one 
of  the  chief  goals  of  his  ambition. 

But  his  way  of  life  was  beset  with  quarrels.  He 
was  thoroughly  versed  in  the  art  of  making  enemies, 
and  seemed  at  times,  so  waspish  was  his  tongue,  so 
vitriolic  his  humor,  to  be  "instinct  with  life  malig- 
nant." His  vanity,  his  untruthfulness,  his  irritability, 
and  his  arrogance  may,  with  reason  and  with  charity, 
be  exj)lained  as  proceeding  from  his  physical  infirmi- 
ties. His  life,  he  said,  was  "one  long  disease."  He 
was  short  of  stature  —  a  high  chair  necessary  to  bring 
him  to  the  level  of  an  ordinary  dining-table ;  his  legs 
were  thin  and  wrapped  in  many  folds  of   linen,  his 


xiv  INTRODUCTION 

body  so  crooked  that  he  was  nicknamed  an  interroga- 
tion point,  and  he  was  tormented  with  constant  head- 
aches. Few  writers  are  more  familiar  to  us  through 
caricature  and  description.  The  dress  and  the  habits 
of  Dr.  Johnson  are  not  better  known  than  Pope's 
paddings  and  stays,  his  wadded  canvas  jackets,  and 
his  twice  doubled  hose.  His  countenance  drawn  and 
pinched,  his  delicate  features,  his  large  blue  expressive 
eyes,  we  know  from  Roubiliac's  and  Rysbrach's  busts 
of  him,  and  the  portraits  by  Kneller,  Jervas,  Hoare, 
and  Richardson. 

Pope  was  born  in  the  city  of  London  of  an  obscure 
Roman  Catholic  family,  in  the  year  of  the  glorious 
Revolution  of  1688  (May  21).  His  father  conducted 
the  wholesale  business  of  a  linen  merchant  in  Lom- 
bard Street,  a  street  which  to  the  English  ear,  as 
De  Quincey  says,  possessed  a  degree  of  historical  im- 
portance: "first,  as  the  residence  of  those  Lombards, 
or  Milanese,  who  affiliated  our  infant  commerce  to  the 
matron  splendors  of  the  Adriatic  and  the  Mediterra- 
nean; next,  as  the  central  resort  of  those  jewellers,  or 
goldsmiths,  as  they  were  styled,  who  performed  all  the 
functions  of  modern  bankers  from  the  period  of  the 
Parliamentary  War  to  the  rise  of  the  Bank  of  England." 

In  1700  the  successful  tradesman  retired  from  busi- 
ness, to  Binfield,  in  Windsor  Forest,  where  the  family 
lived  upon  an  estate  of  twenty  acres,  and  where  a  part 


ALEXANDER    POPE  X^ 

of  the  house  and  an  ancient  row  of  Scottish  firs  still 
remain  as  in  Pope's  childhood.  Very  little  is  recorded 
of  his  early  years.  When  eight  years  old  he  began  to 
study  Latin  and  Greek  under  the  direction  of  a  priest ; 
for  a  short  time  he  studied  at  a  Roman  Catholic  school 
at  Twyford,  near  Winchester,  and  afterwards  under 
Thomas  Deane  at  Marylebone. 

While  his  education  was  desultory  and  superficial, 
he  read  widely  and  constantly,  "  like  a  boy  gathering 
flowers  " ;  indeed  it  was  said  that  he  did  nothing  else 
but  write  and  read.  His  first  acquaintance  with 
Homer  came  in  his  twelfth  year,  through  Ogilby's 
translation;  he  wrote  an  epic  of  Alexander  between 
his  thirteenth  and  fifteenth  years ;  and  while  still  a 
child  came  up  to  London  from  Windsor  Forest  and 
gazed  with  reverence  and  enthusiasm  upon  the  face  of 
old  John  Dryden  upon  what  must  have  been  one  of 
his  last  appearances  at  Will's  Coffee-house. 

Among  Pope's  early  acquaintances  and  patrons  were 
Sir  William  Trumbull,  with  whom  he  rode  out  every 
day ;  William  Walsh,  who  recommended  Pope  to  make 
correctness  his  study  and  aim;  and  Wycherly,  forty- 
eight  years  his  senior,  from  whom  he  learned  much  of 
fashion  and  of  wit.  The  Catholic  boy,  without  name 
or  rank  or  fortune,  was  honored  and  caressed  because 
of  his  single-hearted  devotion  to  literature. 

Sir  William  Trumbull  encouraged  him  to  write  the 


XVI  inTRODUCTION 

"Pastorals,"  which  Jacob  Tonson,  the  publisher,  issued 
in  1709  in  a  volume  of  "  Miscellany,"  which  began 
with  the  pastorals  of  Ambrose  Philips  and  ended 
with  those  of  Pope.  According  to  his  own  account 
Pope  was  but  sixteen  years  old  when  these  poems 
were  written,  but  all  his  assertions  with  regard  to 
himself  are  to  be  received  with  caution,  as  it  is  well 
known  "  that  he  systematically  antedated  his  composi- 
tions in  order  to  obtain  credit  for  precocity."  With 
his  introduction  to  literary  and  aristocratic  society 
Pope  affected  the  tone  of  Will's  Coffee-house.  The 
chief  literary  influences  of  the  time  proceeded  from  the 
coffee-houses;  the  politicians  met  at  the  St.  James's, 
the  critics  at  Will's,  and  the  scholars  at  the  Grecian. 
The  clubs,  a  little  later,  took  the  place  of  the  coffee- 
houses ;  and  with  the  development  of  party  spirit  arose 
a  demand  for  facile  and  fertile  literary  brains  to  aid 
the  party  leaders.  Addison,  who  had  been  one  of  the 
society  at  Will's,  gathered  about  him  a  party  of  Whig 
pamphleteers  and  poets  who  held  their  meetings  at 
Button's,  and  who  were  called  "the  little  senate." 
Pope  became  acquainted  with  Addison  and  his  circle, 
and  with  Swift,  after  the  publication  of  the  "  Essay 
upon  Criticism"  (1711),  in  which  he  presented  in  verse 
his  reflections  upon  the  principles  of  his  art.  Addison 
praised  the  work  in  the  Spectator,  December  20,  1711, 
but  regretted  "  some  strokes  of  personality "  in  the 


ALEXANJiEU    POPE  XVli 

poem.  Pope  immediately  wrote  to  Steele  acknow- 
ledging the  praise  and  promising  to  amend  the  objec- 
tionable matter,  and  Steele  in  turn  introduced  Pope 
to  Addison.  His  next  poem,  "  Windsor  Forest,"  mod- 
elled upon  "Cooper's  Hill,"  appeared  in  1713.  It  was 
animated  by  a  Tory  spirit,  anticipated  the  Peace  of 
Utrecht,  and  brought  Pope  the  friendship  of  Swift. 
He  soon  became  a  member  of  the  Scriblerus  Club,  and 
was  upon  intimate  terms  with  Gay,  Parnell,  Arbuthnot, 
Congreve,  Atterbury,  and  Oxford. 

The  "  Rape  of  the  Lock  "  —  "  the  most  exquisite 
monument  of  playful  fancy  that  universal  literature 
offers  "  —  was  published  in  1714,  though  part  of  it 
had  appeared  two  years  before.  The  "  amorous  cause  " 
of  the  "  dire  offence "  depicted  in  the  poem  was  an 
incident  that  concerned  two  prominent  members  of 
Roman  Catholic  society.  Lord  Petre,  a  young  man 
of  twenty,  ha4  clipped  a  lock  of  hair  from  the  head 
of  Arabella  Fermor,  a  celebrated  beauty  of  the  day, 
and  John  Caryll  —  a  person  of  some  authority  with 
the  Roman  Catholic  party  —  suggested  to  Pope  to 
celebrate  the  petty  quarrel  in  a  poem,  and  so  to  recon- 
cile the  pair.  The  mock-heroic  poem  instantly  won 
popular  favor,  and  three  thousand  copies  of  it  were 
sold  in  four  days.  It  was  Sir  William  Trumbull  who 
first  suggested  to  Pope  the  translation  of  the  Iliad, 
April  9,  1708.     But  Pope  knew  no  Greek  and  had 


Xvill  iNTttODXiCTiON 

scarcely  the  courage  for  the  task.  In  the  autumn  of 
1713,  however,  he  announced  his  intention  of  trans- 
lating Homer.  Lord  Lansdowne  and  Joseph  Addison 
expressed  their  gratification,  and  wrote  to  him  encour- 
agingly. In  November  (1713)  Bishop  Kennet,  describ- 
ing in  his  diary  an  occasion  when  Dean  Swift  led  the 
conversation,  says  :  "  Then  he  instructed  a  young 
nobleman  that  the  best  poet  in  England  was  Mr.  Pope 
(a  Papist),  who  had  begun  a  translation  of  Homer 
into  English  verse,  for  which  he  must  have  them  all 
subscribe ;  for,  says  he,  the  author  shall  not  begin  to 
print  till  I  have  a  thousand  guineas  for  him." 

A  thousand  guineas  was  a  great  sum  for  any  literary 
enterprise  to  yield,  but  as  the  sequel  proved  Swift 
underestimated  the  extraordinary  success  of  this  par- 
ticular undertaking.  The  work  was  designed  on  a 
magnificent  scale ;  it  was  to  be  printed  in  six  sumptu- 
ous volumes  at  a  guinea  a  volume.  Pope  was  to  have 
all  the  subscriptions,  and  a  copyright  from  the  pub- 
lisher, Bernard  Lintot,  of  £200  for  each  volume.  The 
number  of  subscribers  to  the  Iliad  was  574,  and  the 
number  of  copies  subscribed  for  was  654.  Conse- 
quently by  the  subscription  Pope  obtained  six  times 
654  guineas,  or  slightly  more  than  £4000,  which, 
with  the  copyright  (£1200  for  the  work)  swelled 
Pope's  profits  upon  the  transaction  to  £5300.  The 
translation    of    the    Odyssey^    likewise  published  by 


■ALEXANDER  POPE  xix 

gabscription,  was  only  a  trifle  less  remunerative. 
The  colossal  labors  of  tlie  venture  were  lightened 
by  a  partnership  in  toil;  Pope  "let  off,"  as  De 
Quincey  says,  to  sub-contractors  several  portions  of 
the  undertaking,  like  modern  contractors  for  a  loan. 
Broome  and  Fenton,  the  collaborators,  between  them 
translated  twelve  books,  and  Pope  undertook  the  other 
twelve.  Fenton  received  £300,  and  Broome  £500.  By 
the  subscription  to  the  Odyssey  Pope  received  £3000 
(574  copies  subscribed  for  at  a  guinea  for  each  of  the 
five  quarto  volumes),  and  for  the  copyright  £600  addi- 
tional from  Lintot,  the  publisher. 

'•The  jingling  of  the  guinea"  has  a  significance  in 
this  instance  which  renders  the  commercial  aspect  of 
the  publication  peculiarly  interesting. 

In  the  first  place,  it  was  "  unquestionably  the  greatest 
literary  labor,  as  to  profit,  ever  executed,  not  except- 
ing the  most  lucrative  of  Sir  Walter  Scott's,  if  due 
allowance  be  made  for  the  altered  value  of  money" 
(De  Quincey).  And  in  the  second  place,  it  secured 
ease  and  independence  to  Pope  for  the  rest  of  his  life. 
He  bought  an  annuity  of  some  £500,  and  a  long  lease 
of  an  estate  of  five  acres  upon  the  Thames,  at  Twick- 
enham, where  he  lived  until  his  death,  cultivating  his 
gardens  and  lampooning  his  adversaries. 

Pope  was  at  first  oppressed  with  the  magnitude  of 
his  task.     He  said  to  Spence :   ''  In  the  beginning  of 


XX  INTB  OB  UCTION 

my  translating  the  Iliad  I  wished  anybody  would 
hang  me  a  hundred  times.  It  sat  so  heavily  on  my 
mind  at  first  that  I  often  used  to  dream  of  it,  and  do 
sometimes  still." 

To  Jervas,  he  wrote,  when  in  full  career,  July  28, 
1714 :  "  What  can  you  expect  from  a  man  who  has 
not  talked  these  five  days  ?  Who  is  withdrawing  his 
thoughts  as  far  as  he  can,  from  all  the  present  world, 
its  customs  and  its  manners,  to  be  fully  possessed  and 
absorbed  in  the  past.  When  people  talk  of  going  to 
church,  I  think  of  sacrifices  and  libations ;  when  I  see 
the  parson,  I  address  him  as  Chryses,  priest  of  Apollo ; 
and  instead  of  the  Lord's  Prayer,  I  begin :  — 

'  God  of  the  silver  bow,'  etc. 

While  you  in  the  world  are  concerned  about  the  Prot- 
estant succession,  I  consider  only  how  Menelaus  may 
recover  Helen,  and  the  Trojan  war  be  put  to  a  speedy 
conclusion." 

Pope  was  not  a  scholar ;  his  knowledge  of  languages, 
ancient  and  modern,  was  maimed  and  imperfect.  Vol- 
taire said  he  could  hardly  read  French,  and  spoke  not 
one  syllable  of  the  language.  De  Quincey  avowed  his 
belief  in  Pope's  thorough  ignorance  of  Greek  when  he 
commenced  his  translation.  He  mastered  the  sense  of 
the  original  from  the  English  versions  of  his  prede- 
cessors, Chapman,  Hobbes,  and  Ogilby,  and  from  the 


ALEXANDER    POPE  XX^ 

French  translations  of  La  Vallerie  and  Dacier,  and  the 
Latin  version  of  Eobaniis  Hessius.  When  it  became 
necessary  to  consult  the  commentators  and  critics  who, 
said  Pope,  "lie  entrenched  in  the  ditches,  and  are 
secure  only  in  the  dirt  they  have  heaped  about  them 
with  great  pains  in  the  collecting  it,''  lie  called  upon 
Parnell  for  assistance  who  wrote  for  the  translation 
an  "essay  upon  Homer."  The  notes  of  Eustathius. 
the  Archbishop  of  Thessalonica,  were  translated  for 
him  by  Broome,  and  Jortin,  a  young  Cambridge 
scholar. 

The  social  success  of  the  work  was  also  remarkable. 
Pope  was  invited  to  the  country  houses  of  Lord  Har- 
court,  Lord  Bathurst,  and  Lord  Digby,  and  in  April, 
1716,  he  moved  to  Chiswick  "under  the  wing  of  my 
Lord  Burlington  "  in  order  to  be  near  the  aristocratic 
society  of  the  Thames.  John  Gay's  poem  "  ]Mr.  Pope's 
Welcome  from  Greece  "  names  pleasantly  the  distin- 
guished people  who  congratulated  Pope  upon  the 
completion  of  his  translation.  He  entertained  at 
Twickenham  in  his  thrifty  way,  "  watching  his  butler 
very  sharply,  and  by  reason  of  his  infirmities,  was 
very  measured  in  his  wine-drinking.  Swift,  who  used 
to  come  and  pass  days  with  him,  may  have  made  the 
glasses  jingle:  and  there  were  other  worthy  friends 
who,  when  they  came  for  a  dinner,  kept  the  poet  in  a 
tremor  of  unrest.      The  Prince  of  Wales,  after  the 


Xxii  INTRODUCTION 

Georges  of  Hanover  had  come  in,  used  sometimes  to 
honor  the  poet  with  a  visit ;  and  the  rich  and  power- 
ful Bolingbroke  —  what  time  he  lived  at  Battersea  — 
used  to  come  up  in  his  barge,  landing  at  tlie  garden 
entrance  —  as  most  great  visitors  did  —  and  discuss 
with  him  those  faiths,  dogmas,  truisms,  and  splendid 
generalities  which  afterward  took  form  in  the  'famous 
Essay  on  Man  J'  ^ 

The  rest  of  Pope's  life  is  little  else  than  a  record  of 
"disease,  publication,  and  quarrels."  His  satirical 
powers  found  their  fullest  exercise  in  the  Dunciad 
(1728-9),  in  which  he  bestowed  all  his  venom  upon  his 
libellers,  reviewers,  and  rivals.  The  professed  action 
of  the  poem  is  "  the  restoration  of  the  reign  of  Chaos 
and  Night  by  the  ministry  of  Dulness,  in  the  removal 
of  her  imperial  seat  from  the  City  to  the  Polite 
World."  The  Hero  of  the  Poem  —  the  arch-ruler  of 
this  realm  of  Dulness  — is  Theobald, —  "  poor,  pid- 
dling Tibbald,"  —  to  whose  poverty  and  dulness  an 
entire  book  of  the  Dunciad  is  devoted,  and  who  is 
exalted  to  this  bad  eminence  solely  because  he  had 
ventured  in   his   Shakespeare   Restored  to  point  out 

1  Quoted  from  D.  G.  Mitchell,  English  Lands,  Letters,  and 
Kings,  Vol.  III.,  1895.  A  work  of  rare  attractiveness,  in  which  the 
great  figures  of  literature  are  made  to  live  again  by  virtue  of  the 
author's  acute  sympathy,  intimnte  knowledge,  and  faultless  Eng- 
lish. 


ALEXANDER    POPE  XXIU 

the  blunders  that  Pope  had  perpetrated  in  his  Edition 
of  Shakespeare  (1725).  This  publication  marks  the 
culmination  of  his  career;  to  use  De  Quincey's  com- 
parison :  "  like  a  hornet,  who  is  said  to  leave  his  sting 
in  the  wound,  and  afterwards  to  languish  away.  Pope 
felt  so  greatly  exhausted  by  the  efforts  connected  with 
the  Dunciad  that  he  prepared  his  friends  to  expect 
for  the  future  only  an  indolent  companion  and  a 
hermit."  Time,  too,  was  dissolving  the  circle  of 
his  friends.  Atterbury,  the  attainted  and  banished 
Bishop,  died  in  1732 ;  Gay  died  suddenly  at  the  close 
of  the  same  year,  and  the  fatal  blight  of  madness  was 
possessing  Dean  Swift,  who  from  the  beginning  of 
their  acquaintance  maintained  unbroken  a  strange 
affectionate  friendship  for  the  sensitive  crippled  poet. 
His  mother,  whom  he  had  tenderly  loved  and  watched 
over,  and  who  in  her  senile  dotage  recognized  no  face 
but  that  of  her  son,  died  in  1733  at  a  great  age,  at 
Twickenham.  His  writings  now  were  half-moral,  half- 
satirical ;  and  his  philosophy  and  poetry  in  TJie  Epistle 
to  Lord  Burlington,  Essay  on  Man,  Epistle  to  Arhuthnot, 
etc.,  were  blended  in  a  style  whose  burnished  lustre  is 
unequalled  in  literature. 

His  last  effort  was  the  fourth  book  of  the  Dunciad 
(1742),  the  conclusion  of  which  is  one  of  the  greatest 
accomplishments  of  his  life.  The  "  long  disease  "  was 
now  drawing  to  an  endj    he  became  weak  and,   at 


XXIV  INTRODUCTION' 

times,  delirious;  Lord  Boliugbroke  and  a  few  stanch 
friends  sustained  liim.     He  died  May  30,  1744. 

POPE'S   VERSIFICATION 

The  rhymed  couplet  —  commonly  called  the  classical 
couplet  —  was  the  prevalent  poetic  measure  of  the  age 
of  Dry  den  and  the  age  of  Pope.  That  measure  is 
generally  recognized  as  a  reform  of  the  license  and  ex- 
travagance that  marked  the  unregulated  flow  of  verse 
in  the  late  Elizabethan  days.  It  belonged  as  natu- 
rally to  the  classical  or  "  correct "  manner  in  poetry, 
as  did  the  preceding  metres  to  the  romantic  man- 
ner. The  varied  stanza  metres  of  the  Elizabethans 
declined  at  length  into  the  disorderly  blank  verse  of 
the  dramatists.  The  literary  style  retained  its  vehe- 
mence when  the  emotions  that  had  created  it  had 
subsided.  The  genuine  utterance  of  Marlowe  and 
Shakespeare  became  the  inane  rant  of  such  writers  as 
Cyril  Tourneur.  Desperately  striving  to  maintain 
the  traditions  of  the  great  age,  the  post-Elizabethan 
poets  strained  their  plots  and  their  language  to  supply 
the  place  of  failing  originality.  They  stimulated, 
with  impossible  horrors  and  violent  diction,  the  jaded 
public  taste  until  stimulants  ceased  to  compel  even 
a  momentary  spasm  of  attention.  The  change  that 
then  took  place  by  which  poetry  lost  its  violenccj  and 


P  OPE '  S    VERSIFICA  TION  XXV 

a  new  and  different  order  began  in  tlie  technic  of 
verse,  has  been  detined  as  the  formal  change  from  en- 
jambed  lines  to  the  "  classical  conplet."  Vers  eiijamhe, 
or  "  overflow  "  verse,  as  it  has  been  proposed  to  call 
that  style  of  versification  in  which  the  thought  flows 
loosely  on  through  the  verses  to  its  natural  close,  is 
the  distinctive  note  of  all  romantic  poetry. 

The  "classical  couplet"  restrains  the  lawlessness 
and  violence  of  intemperate  verse  by  confining  the 
sense  within  the  narrow  boundaries  of  the  distich. 
The  history  of  the  change  Avould  involve  an  examina- 
tion of  the  literary  chronology  of  the  seventeenth  cen- 
tury. It  must  be  sufficient  here  to  refer  the  student 
to  Edmund  Waller  and  to  George  Sandys  for  the 
earliest  correct  use  of  the  couplet  and  to  recommend 
a  comparison  of  Dryden's  verse,  in  which  the  evjamhe- 
ment  is  often  to  be  found,  with  the  polished,  perfected 
couplets  of  Pope,  unmixed  with  triplets,  or  Alexan- 
drines, or  vers  eiijamhe.  "Pope,"  says  Professor 
Saintsbury,  "  sacrifices  every  attraction  of  form  to  the 
couplet  —  light,  bright,  glittering,  varied  in  a  manner 
almost  impossible  to  account  for,  tipped  ever  with  the 
neatest,  smartest,  sharpest  rhyme,  and  volleying  on 
the  dazzled,  though  at  times  at  any  rate  satiated, 
reader  a  sort  of  salvo  of  feux-cV artifice,  skipping, 
crackling,  scattering  color  and  sound  all  round  and 
about  him.     If  we  take  a  paragraph  of  Milton's  with 


XXVI  INTRODUCTION 

one  of  Pope's,  and  compare  the  apparent  variety  of 
the  constituent  stones  of  the  one  building  with  the 
apparent  monotony  of  those  of  the  other,  the  differ- 
ence may  be  at  first  quite  bewildering.  One  of  Dry- 
den's,  between  the  two,  will  partly,  though  not 
entirely,  solve  the  difficulty  by  showing  how  the  law 
of  the  prose  paragraph,  that  of  meaning,  is  brought  "^ 
to  supply  the  place  of  that  of  the  pure  poetic  para- 
graph, the  composition  of  sound  and  music." 

The  reader  of  Pope  will  be  struck  by  the  conven- 
tional phraseology,  and  the  evident  artifice  in  the 
choice  of  words.  He  is  neither  wayward  in  his  verse, 
nor  unexpected  in  his  phrase.  His  poetry  is  strictly 
artificial,  rhetorical,  mundane.  It  exhibits  the  same 
cold,  glittering  monotony,  "like  frosting  round  a 
cake,"  says  Mr.  Lowell. 

Neither  poetry  nor  prose  could  long  be  confined 
within  the  narrow  limits  appointed  by  the  masters 
of  the  classical  vogue.  The  artificialities  ceased,  and 
romanticism  began  again  with  Gray  and  Cowper,  and 
the  eyes  of  poetry  were  again  opened  to  the  great 
world,  and  men  began  to  look  curiously  at  the  flower 
they  plucked,  and  hands  were  reached  into  the  roman- 
tic past,  and  Percy  collected  his  Reliques  of  Ancient 
English  Poetry,  and  prepared  the  way  for  Chatterton, 
and  for  the  Lyrical  Ballads,  and  for  greater  things 
beyond. 


POPE'S   PLACE   IN   LITERATURE  xxvil 

POPE'S  PLACE   IN  LITERATURE 

(From  the  Life  of  Alexander  Pope,  "by  W.  J.  Courthope, 
pp.  353-357.) 

The  poetry  of  Pope  occupies  a  central  position 
between  two  fluctuating  movements  of  English  taste. 
The  classical  school  of  the  eighteenth  century,  of 
which  he  was  the  pioneer,  was  a  protest  against  what 
has  been  rightly  called  the  metaphysical  school  of  the 
seventeenth  century,  just  as  the  romantic  school, 
which  arose  in  the  early  part  of  the  present  century, 
was  a  reacting  movement  in  art  against  the  critical 
principles  of  the  classical  school.  We  ought  not  to 
regard  the  differing  characteristics  of  these  poetical 
groups  as  so  many  isolated  phsenomena :  each  is  bound 
to  the  other  by  a  historical  connection,  the  full  sig- 
nificance of  which  must  be  determined  by  reference  to 
the  course  of  English  poetry  as  a  whole.  In  other 
words,  to  appreciate  the  true  meaning  of  the  conflicts 
respecting  the  principles  of  poetry  that  have  divided, 
and  still  divide,  rival  schools  of  criticism  in  this 
country,  it  is  necessary  to  investigate  the  origin  of 
the  idea  of  Nature,  which  each  party  holds  to  be  the 
foundation  of  Art.   .   .   . 

Greek  poetry,  both  in  its  practice  and  its  theory, 
was  based  on  the  direct  imitation  of  nature;  that  is 
to  say,  its  subject-matter  was,  foi  the  most  part,  de- 


XXVlll  INTRODUCTION 

rived  from  its  own  mythology,  and  was  presented  in 
forms  which,  to  a  great  extent,  arose  out  of  the  popu- 
lar and  religious  institutions  underlying  all  Greek 
social  life.  From  these  purely  natural  forms  Aris- 
totle reasoned  to  general  principles  which,  according 
to  him,  were  the  laws  of  the  Art  of  Poetry.  The 
Koman  poets  and  critics,  adopting  Greek  models,  car- 
ried them  into  all  countries  in  which  Latin  culture 
predominated,  so  that  before  the  fall  of  the  Roman 
empire  what  m.ay  be  called  a  common  sense  of  Nature, 
and  common  rules  of  rhetoric,  prevailed  wherever  the 
art  of  poetry  was  practised  in  Europe. 

The  irruption  of  the  barbarians  obliterated  like  a 
deluge  the  landmarks  of  ancient  criticism ;  the  Latin 
language  itself  was  only  saved  from  destruction  in  the 
ark  of  the  Christian  Church.  All  the  reasoning  of 
Aristotle,  Cicero,  and  Quintilian  seemed,  like  the 
Roman  empire  itself,  to  have  completely  perished: 
for  whole  centuries  the  voice  of  poetry  was  silent  in 
the  Western  World.  In  course  of  time  new  languages 
began  to  spring  out  of  the  decomposition  of  Latin, 
and,  as  was  natural,  their  infancy  was  cradled  in  new 
forms  of  the  poetic  art.  But  the  idea  of  Nature  re- 
flected in  these  forms  was  no  longer  one  derived  from 
direct  imitation.  A  fresh  conception  of  Man's  rela- 
tion to  God,  of  the  life  beyond  the  grave,  and,  conse- 
quently, of  the  material  universe,  had  come  into  being 


pope's  place  in  literature  xxix 

with  the  Christian  Religion.  And  not  only  had 
Christianity  supervened,  but  upon  Christianity  had 
been  grafted  Theology,  and  on  Theology  the  Scholastic 
Philosophy.  When  we  consider  that  the  reappear- 
ance of  Poetry  is  almost  contemporaneous  with  the 
appearance  of  the  Schoolmen,  we  can  hardly  doubt 
that  much  of  the  intellectual  subtlety  distinguishing 
the  art  of  the  Provenqals  was  derived  from  the  same 
atmosphere  which  inspired  the  five  great  doctors  of  the 
Mediaeval  Church.  Other  influences,  no  doubt,  con- 
tributed largely  to  the  creation  of  tlie  new  Idea  of 
Nature.  The  prevalence  of  feudal  institutions,  the 
enthusiasm  of  the  Crusades,  the  neighborhood  of 
Oriental  thought,  represented  by  the  Arabs  in  Spain, 
and  by  the  philosophy  of  Averroes  and  Avicenna  in- 
corporated in  Christian  theology;  all  this,  operating 
on  minds  learning  to  express  themselves  in  novel  forms 
of  language,  and  unfettered  by  the  critical  principles 
of  the  ancient  world,  encouraged  a  new  and  vigorous 
growth  of  poetical  conception.  Hence  the  multitude 
of  forms  in  which  the  poets  of  that  early  age  manipu- 
lated what  to  us  appears  an  extraordinary  triviality 
of  matter.  Sirvente,  Sonnet,  Ballad,  Virelay,  Ten- 
son,  with  all  their  subtle  and  scientific  combinations 
of  harmony,  convey  to  us  ideas  of  Nature  far  more 
shadowy  than  do  the  odes  of  Horace;  nevertheless  it 
is  evident  that  for  the  audiences  of  the  Middle  Ages 


XXX  INTRODUCTION 

they   possessed   not    only   music,    but  warmth    and 
meaning. 

In  time  the  mediaeval  idea  of  Nature  ceased  to  com- 
mend itself  to  the  general  sense  of  Europe.  The 
wars  -between  Christian  and  Paynim  ceased ;  the  wide- 
spread system  of  Feudalism  waned  before  the  advance 
of  centralizing  Monarchy;  the  Reformation  divided 
the  Western  World  into  two  opposing  camps;  and, 
with  the  Balance  of  Power  that  began  to  emerge  from 
the  chaos,  appeared  the  first  rudiments  of  Inter- 
national Law.  Yet  so  vigorous  and  trenchant  were 
the  forms  of  Mediaeval  Art,  that  they  long  survived 
the  dissolution  of  the  social  conditions  out  of  which 
they  originally  sprang.  Dryden  has  well  said  that 
all  poets  have  their  family  descents.  And  if  any- 
thing is  plain,  it  is  that  the  poets  of  the  seventeenth 
century,  in  the  various  countries  of  Europe,  are  di- 
rectly and  lineally  descended  from  medioeval  masters 
of  the  art.  In  Italy  the  long-lived  family  of  the 
Petrarchists  echoed  faithfully,  if  monotonously,  the 
music  of  their  first  ancestor;  in  Spain  Cultorists  and 
Conceptualists  aimed  at  the  same  subtleties  of  thought 
and  language  that  may  be  found  in  the  original  man- 
ner of  the  Troubadours;  Voiture  in  Prance  amused 
the  society  of  the  Hotel  Pambouillet  with  rondeau, 
ballad,  and  sonnet,  the  prototypes  of  which  had 
helped  to  dispel  the  ennui  of  the  feudal  castle  in  the 


POPE'S    PLACE    IX    LITERATURE  xxxi 

intervals  of  the  Crusades;  Saccharissas  and  Castaras 
in  England  emulated  the  fame  of  Beatrice  and  Laura; 
Quarles  meditated  his  "Emblems,"  and  Phineas 
Eletcher  his  "Purple  Island,"  just  as  if  the  allegori- 
cal interpretation  of  Nature  still  held  the  field,  and 
Bacon  had  not  succeeded  to  the  throne  of  St.  Thomas 
Aquinas. 

Meantime,  however,  the  foundations  of  a  new  criti- 
cal tradition  were  being  silently  laid.  The  old  clas- 
sical principle  of  the  direct  imitation  of  Xatiire, 
rising  from  its  ashes,  was  everywhere  reasserting  its 
authority.  We  may  fairly  boast  that  the  honor  of 
having  first  revived  the  practice  of  this  great  princi- 
ple belongs  to  an  Englishman.  Dante  and  Petrarch 
indeed  show  the  influence  of  classical  forms  in  their 
language,  but  the  cast  of  their  thought  is  purely  medi- 
aeval :  the  earliest  poem  which  embodies  the  genuine 
classical  spirit  is  Chaucer's  Canterbury  Tales.  After- 
wards Ariosto  applied  the  imitative  principle,  with 
the  perfection  of  taste,  in  the  Orlando  Furioso  and 
Cervantes  in  Don  Quixote:  it  found  among  the 
Erench  a  dramatic  exponent  in  Moliere  and  a  poetical 
critic  in  Boileau.  In  this  country  Shakespeare  made 
his  Hamlet  commend  the  principle  to  the  players; 
and  Dryden  gave  it  a  new  application  in  the  historical 
portrait-painting  of  his  "Absalom  and  Achitophel." 
But  the  English  poet  who  first  consciously  recognized 


XXxii  INTRODUCTION 

the  value  of  the  truth  as  a  canon  of  criticism,  and  up- 
held it  by  a  regular  system  of  reasoning,  was  undoubt- 
edly Pope. 

THE   HOMERIC   POEMS 

A  national  epic  is  found  in  the  early  literature  of 
every  people  tracing  their  life  and  being  back  to  a 
primitive  civilization.  The  Nihelungen  Lied,  in  Ger- 
man; the  Kalevala  in  Finnish;  the  Mahabharata  and 
Ramayana  in  Sanskrit,  and  the  Beowulf  in  Old  Eng- 
lish are  such  epics.  They  embody  the  mythological 
and  legendary  ideas  of  the  people  among  whom  they 
originate;  in  sense  and  in  metre  they  are  indigenous. 
The  Homeric  poems  —  the  Iliad  and  the  Odyssey  — 
are  the  greatest  epics  of  the  world,  and  they  reflect 
tlie  earliest  features  of  Aryan  civilization.  Through 
all  the  ages  these  poems  have  retained  their  high 
place  in  the  estimation  of  the  world  and  have  been 
the  steadfast  foundation  of  all  culture.  The  secret 
of  their  hold  upon  humanity  through  their  riches, 
beauty,  and  power  has  been  well  expressed  in  the 
ardent  admiration  of  Henry  Nelson  Coleridge :  — 

"Greek  —  the  shrine  of  the  genius  of  the  Old 
World;  as  universal  as  our  race,  as  individual  as 
ourselves;  of  infinite  flexibility,  of  indefatigable 
strength,  with  the  complication  and  the  distinctness 
of  Nature  herself;  to  which  nothing  was  vulgar,  from 


THE    HOMERIC    POEMS  XXXlli 

■whicli  nothing  was  excluded;  speaking  to  the  ear  like 
Italian,  speaking  to  the  mind  like  English;  with 
words  like  pictures,  with  words  like  the  gossamer 
film  of  the  summer;  at  once  the  variety  and  pictu- 
resqueness  of  Homer,  the  gloom  and  the  intensity  of 
^schylus;  not  compressed  to  the  closest  by  Thu- 
cydides,  not  fathomed  to  the  bottom  by  Plato,  not 
sounding  with  all  its  thunders,  nor  lit  up  with  all 
its  ardors  even  under  the  Promethean  touch  of 
Demosthenes." 

The  Homeric  world  as  revealed  in  these  ancient 
documents  of  Hellenic  life  has  been  well  described  by 
Professor  Jebb  in  his  "Introduction  to  Homer,"  and 
from  his  account  the  following  brief  remarks  are 
drawn. 

The  earth,  as  it  is  conceived  in  Homer,  is  a  large 
flat  disc  surrounded  by  the  great  river  Oceanus ;  of 
the  countries  of  the  earth  Homer  knows  only  those 
which  are  neighbor  to  the  ^gean  Sea  —  Greece  and 
Northwestern  Asia  Minor.  The  Greeks  are  called 
Achaeans,  Argives,  and  Danai.  "Achaean  Argos" 
denotes  the  whole,  or  a  great  part,  of  the  Pelopon- 
nesus, and  "  Pelasgian  Argos "  indicates  Thessaly. 
Peloponnesus  and  Thessaly  are  names  which  do  not 
occur  in  Homer.  Hellas  denotes  merely  a  district  in 
the  region  afterwards  called  Thessaly.  The  topog- 
raphy of  the  Troad  is  more  clearly  marked.     The 


xxxiv  INTUODUCTION 

country  afterwards  called  Lydia  is  "Mseonia,"  iden- 
tified by  the  mention  of  Mount  Tmolus.  The  islands 
of  Crete  and  Rhodes,  Tenedos,  Imbros,  Samothrace, 
Lesbos,  and  Lemnos  are  named.  "To  the  north 
there  is  a  dim  rumor  of  nomads  who  roam  the  plains 
beyond  the  Thracian  hills,  living  on  the  milk  of  their 
mares;  yet  the  name  'Sythian  '  is  not  found.  To  the 
south  there  is  a  rumor  of  'swart  faces'  (^^thiopes), 
'remotest  of  men';  and  of  pigmies,  who  dwell  hard 
by  the  banks  of  the  river  Ocean"  (Jebb).  Egypt  is 
noticed  only  in  a  chance  reference  to  Thebes.  "Phoe- 
nician "  occurs  only  once,  and  Tyre  is  not  named  at  all. 
Homer's  government  is  a  monarchy;  the  king  {Basi- 
leus)  rules  by  divine  right;  he  is  Zeus- nurtured,  that 
is,  "upheld  and  enlightened  by  Zeus."  The  king  is 
leader  in  war,  supreme  judge,  president  of  the  coun- 
cil of  elders  and  of  the  popular  assembly.  A  demesne 
is  assigned  to  him  from  the  public  land,  and  he  dis- 
charges functions  of  public  hospitality.  The  rights 
of  the  people  rest  upon  judicial  precedents  which  are 
upheld  by  the  king.  In  Homer  there  is  no  word  for 
law.  The  king  convenes  a  council  consisting  of  a 
small  number  of  elders,  who  determine  upon  the  busi- 
ness of  state.  In  the  Iliad  the  council  is  composed 
of  a  few  prominent  chiefs,  or  kings,  who  hold  the 
same  relations  to  Agamemnon  as  local  elders  to  a 
local  king. 


THE   HOMERIC   POEMS  XXXV 

The  gods  are  near  to  men  and  are  easily  invoked  by 
prayer  or  placated  by  sacrifice.  "The  ties  of  the 
family  are  sacred  in  every  relation."  The  Iliad  has 
several  pictures  of  pure  and  tender  conjugal  affection. 
Slavery  was  the  doom  of  prisoners  of  war.  Slaves 
were  employed  in  the  house  or  on  the  land,  but  there 
were  also  free  hired  laborers. 

Man  in  Homer  wears  a  shirt,  or  tunic  (chiton),  and 
a  mantle  (chlaina) ;  woman  wears  a  robe  (peplus) 
reaching  to  her  feet,  and  girdled  at  the  waist  by  a 
zone.  "  On  her  head  she  sometimes  wears  a  high,  stiff 
coif,  over  the  middle  of  which  passes  a  many-colored 
twisted  band,  while  a  golden  fillet  glitters  at  the  front. 
Either  from  the  coif,  or  directly  from  the  crown  of 
the  head,  a  veil  falls  over  shoulders  and  back." 

The  chief  articles  of  Homeric  armor  are  the  shield, 
the  greaves,  the  belt,  the  helmet,  the  spear,  and  the 
sword.  The  shield  was  usually  round  and  composed 
of  several  layers  of  oxhide  covered  with  ornamented 
metal;  the  greaves  were  defensive  panoply  of  leather 
or  soft  metal  wrapped  completely  about  the  leg. 
"The  most  elaborate  work  of  art  in  Homer  is  the 
shield  of  Achilles.  The  central  part  of  the  shield 
was  adorned  with  representations  of  earth,  heaven, 
sea,  sun,  moon,  and  stars.  The  outer  rim  of  the 
shield  represented  the  earth-girdling  river,  Oceanus. 
Between  the  boss  and  the  rim  successive  concentric 


XXX  VI  INTRODUCTION 

bands  displayed  various  scenes  of  human  life :  a  be- 
sieged city;  a  city  at  peace;  ploughing;  reaping; 
vintage;  oxen  attacked  by  lions;  sheep  at  pasture  in 
a  glen;  youths  and  maidens  dancing." 

There  is  no  reference  in  Homer  to  coined  money. 
The  ordinary  measure  of  value  is  the  ox;  a  female 
slave  is  worth  four  oxen,  a  suit  of  "  golden  "  armor 
is  worth  a  hundred. 

The  Homeric  place  of  the  dead  is  "the  house  of 
Hades."  Between  the  earth  and  Hades  is  an  inter- 
mediate region  of  gloom,  called  Erebus.  Beyond 
Hades  is  Tartarus,   the  prison  of  the  Titans. 

The  Homeric  poems  were  publicly  recited  by  rhap- 
sodes as  early  as  600  b.c.  And  the  poems  are  found 
at  an  early  date  diffused  throughout  the  Greek  world. 
At  Athens  there  was  a  special  ordinance,  probably 
as  old  as  600  b.c,  prescribing  that  Homer  should  be 
recited  at  the  festival  of  the  Great  Panathensea,  once 
in  every  four  years.  The  earliest  reference  to  Homer 
in  literature  is  in  a  lost  poem  of  Callinus,  who  flour- 
ished about  690  b.c.  Pausanias  reports  Callinus  as 
believing  Homer  to  be  the  author  of  an  epic  called 
Thebais.  The  earliest  quotation  from  Homer  is  made 
by  Simonides  of  Ceos,  born  566  b.c,  who  quotes  IL 
VI.  148  as  the  utterance  of  "the  man  of  Chios." 

The  editions  of  Homer  in  the  Alexandrian  Library 
were  chiefly  of  two  classes,  those  known  by  the  names 


THE    HOMERIC    POEMS  XXX Vll 

of  individual  editors  and  tliose  known  by  the  names 
of  cities.  When  cited  collectively  the  latter  are  called 
the  civic  editions.  It  is  believed  that  the  copies 
known  to  the  Alexandrians  rested  upon  an  older  vul- 
gate  text,  the  sources  of  which  are  unknown.  Zeno- 
dotus,  an  Ephesian,  librarian  of  the  Alexandrian 
Museum,  in  the  third  century  b.c,  published  a  recen- 
sion of  Homer  and  a  Homeric  glossary.  His  pupil, 
Aristophanes  of  Byzantium,  also  published  a  recension 
of  Homer.  Aristarchus  of  Samothrace  was  a  pupil 
of  Aristophanes  and  succeeded  him  as  librarian  of  the 
Alexandrian  Library.  He  published  two  editions  of 
the  text  of  Homer.  Professor  Jebb  notes  three  gen- 
eral aspects  of  his  work:  he  carefully  studied  the 
Homeric  usage  of  Avords,  he  gave  full  weight  to 
manuscript  authority,  and  he  commented  on  the  sub- 
ject-matter of  Homer.  A  rival  school  of  Homeric 
interpretation  sprang  up  at  Pergamum  in  Mysia, 
where  Crates,  a  contemporary  of  Aristarchus,  and 
librarian  of  Pergamum,  published  Homeric  commen- 
taries. He  is  said  to  have  been  the  champion  of 
"  anomaly "  as  Aristarchus  was  the  champion  of 
"analogy";  that  is,  the  Alexandrian  school,  repre- 
sented by  Aristarchus,  was  essentially  a  school  of 
accurate  grammatical  scholarship,  and  insisted  upon 
the  strict  application  of  rules  to  the  forms  of  words, 
while  Crates  dwelt  more  upon  the  exceptions. 


XXXVlll  INTRODUCTION 

The  results  of  the  inquiry  into  the  ancient  study  of 
Homer  warrant  a  general  conclusion  of  the  highest 
importance  in  regard  to  the  whole  existing  text  of 
Homer.  In  the  words  of  Professor  Jebb  it  is  as  fol- 
lows :  "  The  editions  used  by  Aristarchus  represented 
an  older  common  text,  or  vulgate,  and  one  of  these 
editions  was  that  of  Antimachus  (circ.  410  b.c),  in 
which  the  variations  appear  to  have  been  only  of  the 
same  small  kind  as  in  the  rest.  Hence  there  is  the 
strongest  reason  for  believing  that  the  common  text 
of  200  B.C.  went  back  at  least  to  the  fifth  century  b.c. 
But  Aristarchus  caused  no  breach  in  the  transmission 
of  the  common  text.  He  made  no  wild  conjecture  or 
violent  dislocations.  He  handed  on  what  he  had  re- 
ceived, with  such  help  towards  exhibiting  it  in  a  purer 
form  as  careful  collation  and  study  could  give ;  and  so, 
with  comparatively  slight  modifications,  it  descended 
to  the  age  from  which  our  MSS.  date.  Our  common 
text,  then,  we  may  reasonably  believe,  is  fundamen- 
tally the  same  as  that  which  was  known  to  Aristar- 
chus; and  therefore,  in  all  probability,  it  rests  on 
the  same  basis  as  the  text  which  was  read  by  Plato 
and  Thucydides."  (Jebb,  Introduction  to  Homer ,  p. 
102.) 

Two  questions  must  still  be  referred  to:  the  his- 
torical basis  of  the  storj^  of  the  Iliad  and  the  vexed 
problem  of  the   authorship  of  the   Homeric  poems. 


THE    HOMERIC  POEMS  XXXIX 

Concerning  the  first,  Walter  Leaf  says,  in  the  Com- 
panion to  the  Iliad,  "The  poem  may  give  us  a  true 
picture  of  Achaian  Greece  and  its  civilization,  and 
yet  be  no  proof  that  the  armies  of  Agamemnon  fought 
beneath  the  walls  of  Troy.  But  here,  again,  the 
discoveries  of  recent  years,  and  notably  those  of 
Schliemann  at  Hissarlik,  have  tended,  on  the  whole, 
to  confirm  the  belief  that  there  is  a  historic  reality 
behind  the  tale  of  Troy.  Two  things  seem  to  be 
clearly  made  out,  First,  the  Achaian  empire  was  suf- 
ficiently powerful  to  collect  a  great  armament  and 
transport  it  across  the  seas  for  a  distant  war.  Here, 
as  in  so  many  unexpected  points,  we  get  light  from 
Egypt;  for  it  seems  to  be  made  out  that  about  1500  b.c. 
the  Achaians  were  allies  of  the  Libyans  in  a  great 
invasion  of  Egypt;  possibly  colonies  of  them  were 
actually  established  there.  If  the  Achaians  could 
invade  Egypt,  there  is  no  antecedent  improbability  in 
their  invading  Troas.  Secondly,  at  the  very  point 
where  tradition  placed  the  city  of  Troy,  there  actually 
was  a  town  of  unknown  antiquity  and  of  considerable 
power.  Thus  two  of  the  conditions,  which  have  been 
gravely  doubted  previously,  are  now  shown  to  have 
actually  existed,  and  there  is  no  a  priori  improbability, 
much  less  an  impossibility,  in  such  a  Trojan  expedi- 
tion as  the  Iliad  describes.  But  we  can  say  positively 
—  if  indeed  it  is  not  sufficiently  evident  on  the  face 


xl  INTRODUCTION 

of  it  —  that  the  details  of  the  Homeric  story  cannot 
possibly  be  historic.  To  take  one  main  point,  it  is  a 
fundamental  assumption  of  the  whole  Iliad  that  the 
Greeks  and  Trojans  are  essentially  one  people  in  civi- 
lization and  belief,  in  dress,  manners,  and  language. 
Hardly  here  and  there,  as,  for  instance,  in  the  polyg- 
amy of  Priam,  do  we  find  traces  of  non-Greek  habits. 
But  this  likeness  cannot  have  existed  between  the 
inhabitants  of  Mykenai  and  Troy  —  the  Troy  of  His- 
sarlik.  The  inhabitants  of  Hissarlik  had  a  culture 
of  their  own,  but  it  was  entirely  different  from,  and 
inferior  to,  that  of  Mykenai.  The  siege  of  Troy  was 
a  conflict  of  two  races  and  two  cultures  with  nothing 
in  common.  The  description  of  it  in  the  Iliad  is 
purely  imaginary  —  a  poetic  idealization  of  an  event 
which  can  at  most  have  been  known  by  distant  tra- 
dition. Even  if  Agamemnon  and  Achilles  ever  really 
lived,  the  Iliad  can  no  more  be  taken  as  a  proof  that 
they  fought  before  Troy,  than  the  romances  of  the 
Middle  Ages  can  prove  that  Charlemagne  headed  a 
crusade  and  fought  before  Jerusalem.'' 

There  have  always  been  sceptics  who  have  doubted 
the  unity  of  composition  of  the  Iliad.  As  early  as  1689, 
Bentley's  confidence  was  shaken  by  signs  of  serious 
tampering  with  the  text  of  Homer.  Wood's  Essay  on 
the  Genius  of  Homer,  first  published  in  1769,  and  re- 
issued in  Germany  in  1773,  reiterated  Bentley's  hon- 


THE    HOMERIC   POEMS  xli 

est  doubts.  "Finally,  in  1795,  Wolf  marched  forth  in 
complete  mail,  a  sheaf  of  sceptical  arrows  rattling  on 
his  harness,  all  of  which  he  pointed  and  feathered, 
giving  by  his  learning,  or  by  masculine  sense,  buoy- 
ancy to  their  flight,  so  as  to  carry  tliem  into  every 
corner  of  literary  Europe.  Then  began  the  row,  — 
then  the  steam  was  mounted  Avhich  has  never  since 
subsided,  —  and  then  opened  upon  Germany  a  career 
of  scepticism  which,  from  the  very  first,  promised  to 
be  contagious."  (De  Quincey.)  Without  revolving 
the  arguments  contained  in  Wolf's  Prolegomena,  and 
the  immense  critical  literature  that  has  followed  upon 
it,  it  may  not  be  amiss  to  point  out  the  order  and 
relationship  of  the  books  of  the  Iliad  according  to  the 
latest  scholarship.  The  subject  of  the  epic  is  the 
"Wrath  of  Achilles,"  and  this  main,  or  central  story 
is  contained  in  the  following  books :  I.  The  Quarrel 
of  Agamemnon  and  Achilles;  XI.  The  Rout  of  the 
Greeks;  XVI.  The  Exploits  and  Death  of  Patroklos; 
XXII.  The  Slaying  of  Hector. 

The  tale  is  not  absolutely  comple1?e,  for  scattered 
fragments  found  in  the  intervening  books  are  needed 
to  round  out  the  narrative.  The  first  book  is  complete 
in  itself:  Zeus  has  promised  to  avenge  Achilles  and 
proceeds  to  bring  the  Greeks  and  Trojans  into  a 
pitched  battle  in  order  that  the  Greeks  may  be  de- 
feated.    The  way  by  which  this  is  brought  about  is 


xlii  INTRODUCTION 

described  in  the  second  book :  Zeus  sends  a  false  dream 
to  Agamemnon  to  tell  him  that  the  hour  of  victory  is 
at  hand,  while  to  the  Trojans  he  sends  Iris  with  a 
command  to  march  at  once  into  the  plain.  The  close 
of  Book  XI.  leaves  the  Greeks  in  a  state  of  defeat 
and  flight,  deprived  of  all  their  leaders  except  Aias, 
who  still  remains  to  cover  the  retreat.  But  at  the 
beginning  of  Book  XVI.  we  find  him  defending  the 
ships.  The  intervening  explanatory  narrative  is  to 
be  found  at  the  end  of  XV.,  which  fits  on  to  the  end 
of  XI.  The  interval  between  XVI.  and  XXII.  is 
more  difficult  to  bridge.  Book  XVI.  has  brought  us 
to  the  death  of  Patroklos.  In  Book  XXII.  we  have 
Achilles  in  the  full  career  of  revenge.  The  inter- 
mediate action  is  accounted  for  in  the  following 
manner  by  Walter  Leaf :  "  In  the  original  story  the 
body  of  Patroklos  was  not  saved  at  all;  the  bringing 
of  the  news  of  his  death  to  Achilles  in  the  beginning 
of  XVIII.,  in  some  form  or  another,  probably  stood 
in  the  oldest  form  of  the  poem,  and  was  immediately 
followed  by  the  issuing  of  Achilles  from  the  camp  as 
told  at  the  end  of  XIX." 

With  splendid  eloquence  De  Quincey  describes  the 
character  and  argues  the  unity  of  this  stupendous 
story  of  the  Wrath  of  Achilles :  — 

"Now,  this  unity  is  sufficiently  secured  if  it  should 
appear  that  a  considerable  section  of  the  Iliad  —  and 


THE    HOMERIC   POEMS  xliii 

that  section  by  far  the  most  full  of  motion,  of  human 
interest,  of  tragical  catastrophe,  and  through  which 
runs,   as  the    connecting    principle,   a  character   the 
most  brilliant,   magnanimous,  and  noble,  that  pag^n 
morality  could  conceive  —  was,  and  must  have  been, 
the  work  and  conception  of  a  single  mind.     Achilles 
revolves  through  that  section  of  the  Iliad  in  a  series 
of  phases,  each  of  which  looks  forward  and  backward 
to  all  the  rest.     He  travels  like  the  sun  through  his 
diurnal  course.     We  see  him  first  of  all  rising  upon 
us  as  a  princely  councillor  for  the  welfare  of  the 
Grecian  host.     We  see  him  atrociously  insulted  in 
this  office;  yet,  still,  though  a  king,   and  unused  to 
opposition,  and  boiling  with  youthful  blood,  neverthe- 
less controlling  his  passion,  and  retiring  in  clouded 
majesty.     Even  thus,  though  having  now  so  excellent 
a  plea  for  leaving  the  army,  and  though  aware  of  the 
early  death  that  awaited  him  if  he  stayed,  he  disdains 
to  profit  by  the  evasion.     We  see  him  still  living  in 
the  tented  field,  and  generously  unable  to  desert  those 
who  had  so  insultingly  deserted  him.     We  see  him  in 
a  dignified  retirement,  fulfilling  all  the  duties  of  re- 
ligion,   friendship,   hospitality;    and,  like  an  accom- 
plished man  of  taste,  cultivating  the  arts  of  peace. 
We   see  him   so  far   surrendering  his  wrath  to  the 
earnest  persuasion  of  friendship,  that  he  comes  forth 
at  a  critical  moment  for  the  Greeks  to  save  them  from 


xliv  INTRODUCTION 

ruin.  What  are  his  arms?  He  has  none  at  all. 
Simply  by  his  voice  he  changes  the  face  of  the  battle. 
He  shouts,  and  nations  fly  from  the  sound.  Never 
but  once  again  is  such  a  shout  recorded  by  a  poet:  — 

'  He  caird  so  loud,  that  all  the  hollow  deep 
Of  hell  resounded.' 

Who  called?  That  shout  was  the  shout  of  an  arch- 
angel. Next,  we  see  him  reluctantly  allowing  his 
dearest  friend  to  assume  his  own  arms;  tlie  kindness 
and  the  modesty  of  his  nature  forbidding  him  to  sug- 
gest, that  not  the  divine  weapons,  but  the  immortal 
arm  of  the  wielder  had  made  them  invincible.  His 
friend  perishes.  Then  we  see  him  rise  in  his  noon- 
tide wrath,  before  which  no  life  could  stand.  The 
frenzy  of  his  grief  makes  him  for  a  time  cruel  and 
implacable.  He  sweeps  the  field  of  battle  like  a 
monsoon.  His  revenge  descends  perfect,  sudden, 
like  a  curse  from  heaven.  We  now  recognize  the 
goddess-born.  This  is  his  avatar  —  the  incarnate 
descent  of  his  wrath.  Had  he  moved  to  battle  under 
the  ordinary  impulses  of  Ajax,  Diomed,  and  the  other 
heroes,  we  never  could  have  sympathized  or  gone 
along  with  so  withering  a  course.  We  should  have 
viewed  him  as  a  'scourge  of  God,'  or  fiend,  born  for 
the  tears  of  wives  and  the  maledictions  of  mothers. 
But  the  poet,  before  he  would  let  him  loose  upon  men, 


THE    HOMERIC    POEMS     .  xlv 

creates  for  him  a  sufficient,  or  at  least  palliating, 
motive.  In  the  sternest  of  his  acts  we  read  only  the 
anguish  of  his  grief.  This  is  surely  the  perfection  of 
art.  At  length  the  work  of  destruction  is  finished; 
but  if  the  poet  leaves  him  at  this  point,  there  would 
be  a  want  of  repose,  and  we  should  be  left  with  a 
painful  impression  of  his  hero  as  forgetting  the 
earlier  humanities  of  his  nature,  and  brought  forward 
only  for  final  exhil)ition  in  his  terrific  phases.  Now, 
therefore,  by  machinery  the  most  natural,  we  see  tliis 
paramount  hero  travelling  back  within  our  gentler 
sympathies,  and  revolving  to  his  rest  like  the  vesper 
sun  disrobed  of  his  blazing  terrors.  We  see  him 
settling  down  to  that  humane  and  princely  character 
in  which  he  had  been  first  exhibited;  we  see  him  re- 
lenting at  the  sight  of  Priam's  gray  hairs,  touched 
with  the  sense  of  human  calamity,  and  once  again 
mastering  his  passion  (grief  now)  as  formerly  he  had 
mastered  his  wrath.  He  consents  that  his  feud  shall 
sleep;  he  surrenders  the  corpse  of  his  capital  enemy; 
and  the  last  farewell  chords  of  the  poem  rise  with  a 
solemn  intonation  from  the  grave  of  '  Hector,  the 
tamer  of  horses '  —  that  noble  soldier  who  had  so 
long  been  the  column  of  his  country,  and  to  whom, 
in  his  dying  moments,  the  stern  Achilles  had  declared, 
but  then  in  the  middle  career  of  his  grief,  that  no 
honorable  burial  should  ever  be  granted. 


Xlvi  INTRODUCTION 

"  Such  is  the  outline  of  an  Achilleis,  as  it  might  be 
gathered  from  the  Iliad;  and  for  the  use  of  schools 
we  are  surprised  that  such  a  beautiful  whole  has  not 
long  since  been  extracted.  A  tale  more  affecting  by 
its  story  and  vicissitudes  does  not  exist;  and,  after 
this,  who  cares  in  what  order  the  non-essential  parts 
of  the  poem  may  be  arranged,  or  whether  Homer  was 
their  author?  It  is  sufficient  that  one  mind  must 
have  executed  this  Achilleis,  in  consequence  of  its 
intense  unity.  Every  part  implies  every  other  part. 
With  such  a  model  before  him  as  this  poem  on  the 
wrath  of  Achilles,  Aristotle  could  not  carry  his  notions 
of  unity  too  high.  And  the  unifying  mind  which 
could  conceive  and  execute  the  Achilleis  —  that  is 
what  we  mean  by  Homer.  As  well  might  it  be  said, 
that  the  parabola  described  by  a  cannon-ball  was  in 
one  half  due  to  a  iirst  discharge,  and  in  the  other 
half  to  a  second,  as  that  one  poet  could  lay  the  prepa- 
rations for  the  passion  and  sweep  of  such  a  poem, 
whilst  another  conducted  it  to  a  close.  Creation  does 
not  proceed  by  instalments :  the  steps  of  its  revolu- 
tion are  not  successive,  but  simultaneous;  and  the 
last  book  of  the  Achilleis  was  undoubtedly  conceived 
in  the  same  moment  as  the  first. 

"  What  effect  such  an  Achilleis,  abstracted  from  the 
Iliad,  would  probably  leave  upon  the  mind,  it  happens 
that  we  can  measure  by  our  own  childish  experience. 


SUGGESTIONS    TO    TEACHERS  xlvii 

In  Eussell's  Ancient  Euro2Je,  a  book  much  used  in  the 
last  century,  there  is  an  abstract  of  the  Iliad,  which 
presents  very  nearly  the  outline  of  an  Achilleis,  such 
as  we  have  supposed.  The  heroes  are  made  to  speak 
in  a  sort  of  stilted,  or  at  least  buskined  language,  not 
unsuited  to  youthful  taste:  and  from  the  close  con- 
vergement  of  the  separate  parts,  the  interest  is  con- 
densed. This  book,  in  our  eighth  year,  we  read. 
It  was  our  first  introduction  to  the  '  Tale  of  Troy 
divine';  and  we  do  not  deceive  ourselves  in  saying, 
that  this  memorable  experience  drew  from  us  the  first 
unselfish  tears  that  ever  we  shed;  and  by  the  stings 
of  grief  which  it  left  behind,  demonstrated  its  own 
natural  pathos."  (De  Quincey,  Homer  and  the 
Homer  idee.) 

SUGGESTIONS   TO   TEACHERS 

As  the  Iliad  is  one  of  the  world's  great  master- 
pieces, it  is  a  book  to  live  with,  not  to  read  once  and 
have  done  with.  It  is  a  source  of  perpetual  profit, 
inspiration,  and  delight.  It  discloses  at  the  fiftieth 
reading  beauties  that  were  unseen  at  the  first  ac- 
quaintance. In  Homer,  as  Frederic  Harrison  says, 
"alone  of  the  poets,  a  national  life  is  transfigured, 
wholly  beautiful,  complete,  and  happy;  where  care, 
doubt,  decay,  are  as  yet  unborn.     Here  is  a  secular 


xlviii  INTRODUCTION 

Eden  of  the  natural  man  —  man  not  yet  fallen  or 
ashamed.  .  .  .  And  yet  how  seldom  do  we  hnd  a 
friend  spellbound  over  the  Greek  Bible  of  antiquity, 
whilst  they  wade  through  torrents  of  magazine  quo- 
tations from  a  petty  versifier  of  to-day,  and  in  an  idle 
vacation  will  graze,  as  contentedly  as  cattle  in  a  fresh 
meadow,  through  the  chopped  straw  of  a  circulating 
library.  A  generation  which  will  listen  to  Pinafore 
for  three  hundred  nights,  and  will  read  M.  Zola's 
seventeenth  romance,  can  no  more  read  Homer  than 
it  could  read  a  cuneiform  inscription.  It  will  read 
about  Homer  just  as  it  will  read  about  a  cuneiform 
inscription,  and  will  crowd  to  see  a  few  pots  which 
probably  came  from  the  neighborhood  of  Troy.  But 
to  Homer  and  the  primeval  type  of  heroic  man  in  his 
simple  joyousness  the  cultured  generation  is  really 
dead,  as  completely  as  some  spoiled  beauty  of  the 
ballroom  is  blind  to  the  bloom  of  the  heather  or  the 
waving  of  the  daffodils  in  a  glade." 

The  first  duty  of  the  teacher  is  to  stimulate  a  healthy 
love  of  reading  and  to  kindle  that  inextinguishable  love 
for  literature  which,  Gibbon  said,  in  words  which  are 
burned  into  the  memory,  he  would  not  exchange  for  the 
wealth  of  the  Indies.  We  should  not  be  deceived  by 
any  solemn  pedantry  or  shallow  pedagogy  into  regard- 
ing the  Jo?/  of  literary  study  as  a  mere  dilettante  amuse- 
ment. In  the  public  schools  there  is  a  large  class  of  boys 


SUGGESTIONS    TO    TEACHERS  .  xlix 

who  come  from  bare  homes  where  books  are  unknown, 
and  another  large  class  whose  imaginations  have  been 
inflamed  by  the  dime  dreadful,  or  the  weekly  story 
paper.  The  manliest  of  stories,  the  most  heroic  of 
tales  of  adventures  by  land  or  sea,  are  too  tame  or 
too  slow  for  the  appetite  of  one  of  these.  He  is 
callous  to  Dana  or  Melville;  he  thinks  "Westward 
Ho!  "  "tiresomely  dull."  If  only  he  can  be  beguiled 
into  a  love  of  reading,  all  other  things  become  possi- 
ble to  him.  Grammar  he  will  learn  best  not  from 
rules  and  principles,  but  as  it  is  organized  in  thought 
and  feeling  in  the  great  masters  of  expression;  and 
he  will  unconsciously  grow  into  a  likeness  with  the 
company  he  keeps.  He  will  enlarge  his  vocabulary 
with  each  book  observingly  read,  and  his  tongue  will 
unconsciously  grow  fluent  and  his  pen  more  facile  as 
he  acquires,  apparently  without  labor,  the  diflicult 
art  of  expression. 

Most  of  us,  a  shrewd  observer  has  said,  find  that 
true  sympathy  with  our  classics  begins  only  then 
when  our  academic  study  of  them  is  wholly  at  an  end. 
There  is  therefore  at  first  no  need  of  glossaries  and 
commentaries,  and  the  poem  may  be  treated  as  an 
English  poem,  and  read  for  the  delight  of  the  narra- 
tive. The  tale  of  Troy  should  first  be  told,  and,  with 
the  student's  curiosity  thus  aroused,  the  reading  of 
the  text  begun.     Xo  hint  need  be  given,  until  the 


1  INTRODUCTION 

Iliad  is  read  and  read  again,  of  what  modern  scholar- 
ship has  discovered  concerning  Homer.  Least  of  all 
need  the  child's  imagination  be  disturbed  by  theories 
of  the  authorship  of  the  books,  and  all  the  din  of  con- 
troversy raised  by  Wolf  and  his  successors. 

No  disciple  of  Herbart  ever  evolved  a  more  careful 
plan  of  education,  or  method  of  pedagogic  practice, 
than  that  which  Robert  Browning  drew  concerning 
this  very  poem,  and  which  may  be  commended  to  the 
thoughtful  attention  of  both  teacher  and  pupil. 


DEVELOPMENT 

My  Father  was  a  scholar  and  knew  Greek. 
When  I  was  five  years  old,  I  asked  him  once 
"  What  do  you  read  about?  " 

"The  Siege  of  Troy." 
*'  What  is  a  siege,  and  what  is  Troy  ?  " 

Whereat 
He  piled  up  chairs  and  tables  for  a  town. 
Set  me  a-top  for  Priam,  called  our  cat 

—  Helen,  enticed  away  from  home  (he  said) 
By  wicked  Paris,  who  couched  somewhere  close 
Under  the  footstool,  being  cowardly. 

But  whom  —  since  she  was  worth  the  pains,  poor  puss- 
Towzer  and  Tray  —  our  dogs,  the  Atreidai,  —  sought 
By  taking  Troy  to  get  possession  of 

—  Always  when  great  Achilles  ceased  to  sulk, 
(My  pony  in  the  stable)  —  forth  would  prance 


DEVELOPMENT 

And  put  to  flight  Hector  —  our  page  boy's  self. 
This  taught  nie  who  was  who  and  what  was  what  : 
So  far  I  rightly  understood  the  case 
At  five  years  old  :  a  huge  delight  it  proved 
And  still  proves  —  thanks  to  that  instructor  sage 
My  Father,  who  knew  better  than  turn  straight 
Learning's  full  flare  on  weak-eyed  ignorance" 
Or,  worse  yet,  leave  weak  eyes  to  grow  sand-blind, 
Content  with  darkness  and  vacuity. 

It  happened,  two  or  three  years  afterward, 

That  — I  and  playmates  playing  at  Troy's  Siege  — 

My  Father  came  upon  our  make-believe. 

"  How  would  you  like  to  read  yourself  the  tale 

Properly  told,  of  which  I  gave  you  first 

Merely  such  notion  as  a  boy  could  bear  ? 

Pope,  now,  would  give  you  the  precise  account 

Of  what  some  day  by  dint  of  scholarship, 

You'll  hear  — who  knows?  — from  Homer's  very  mouth. 

Learn  Greek  by  all  means,  read  the  'Blind  Old  Man, 

Sweetest  of  smgeTs'  —tiqmos  which  means  '  blind,' ' 

Hedistos  which  means  '  sweetest.'     Time  enough  ! ' 

Try,  anyhow,  to  master  him  some  day  ; 

Until  when,  take  what  serves  for  substitute, 

Read  Pope,  by  all  means  !  " 

So  I  ran  through  Pope, 
Enjoyed  the  tale  —  what  history  so  true  ? 
Also  attacked  my  Primer,  duly  drudged, 
Grew  fitter  thus  for  what  was  promised  next  — 
The  very  thing  itself,  the  actual  words, 
When  I  could  turn  — say,  Buttraan  to  account. 


lii  mTRODUCTtON 

Time  passed,  I  ripened  somewhat :  one  fine  day, 
"  Quite  ready  for  the  lliad^  nothing  less  ? 
There's  Heine,  where  the  big  books  block  the  shelf  -. 
Don't  skip  a  word,  thumb  well  the  Lexicon  !  " 

I  thumbed  well,  and  skipped  nowise  till  I  learned 
Who  was  who,  what  was  what,  from  Homer's  tongue, 
And  there  an  end  of  learning.     Had  you  asked 
The  all-accomplished  scholar,  twelve  years  old, 
"  Who  was  it  wrote  the  Iliad? ^^  —  what  a  laugh  ! 
"  Why,  Homer,  all  the  world  knows  :  of  his  life 
Doubtless  some  facts  exist :  it's  everywhere  : 
We  have  not  settled,  though,  his  place  of  birth  : 
He  begged,  for  certain,  and  was  blind  beside  : 
Seven  cities  claimed  him  —  Scio,  with  best  right. 
Thinks  Byron.    What  he  wrote  ?    Those  Hynnis  we  have 
Then  there's  the  '  Battle  of  the  Frogs  and  Mice,' 
That's  all  —  unless  they  dig  '  Margites '  up 
(I'd  like  that)  nothing  more  remains  to  know." 

Thus  did  youth  spend  a  comfortable  time  ; 
Until  —  "  What's  this  the  Germans  say  is  fact 
That  Wolf  found  out  first  ?     It's  unpleasant  work 
Their  chop  and  change,  unsettling  one's  belief : 
All  the  same,  while  we  live,  we  learn,  that's  sure." 
So,  I  bent  brow  o'er  Prolegomena. 

And,  after  Wolf,  a  dozen  of  his  like 
Proved  there  was  never  any  Troy  at  all, 
Neither  Besiegers  nor  Besieged,  — nay  worse,  — 
No  actual  Homer,  no  authentic  text. 
No  warrant  for  the  fiction  I,  as  fact, 


DEVELOPMENT  liii 

Had  treasured  in  my  heart  and  soul  so  long  — 

Ay,  mark  you  !    and  as  fact  held  still,  still  hold, 

Spite  of  new  knowledge,  in  my  heart  of  hearts 

And  soul  of  souls,  fact's  essence  freed  and  fixed 

From  accidental  fancy's  guardian  sheath. 

Assuredly  thenceforth  —  thank  my  stars  !  — 

However  it  got  there,  deprive  who  couli  — 

Wring  from  the  shrine  my  precious  tenantry, 

Helen,  Ulysses,  Hector  and  his  spouse, 

Achilles  and  his  friend  ?— though  Wolf —  ah.  Wolf ! 

Why  must  he  needs  come  doubting,  spoil  a  dream  ? 

Butthen.  "No  dream's  worth  waking'"— Browning  says: 

And  here's  the  reason  why  I  tell  thus  much. 

I,  now  mature  man,  you  anticipate. 

May  blame  my  Father  justifiably 

For  letting  me  dream  out  my  nonage  thus, 

And  only  by  such  slow  and  sure  degrees 

Permitting  me  to  sift  the  grain  from  chaff, 

Get  truth  and  falsehood  known  and  named  as  such. 

Why  did  he  ever  let  me  dream  at  all, 

Not  bid  me  taste  the  story  in  its  strength  ? 

Suppose  my  childhood  was  scarce  qualified 

To  rightly  understand  mythology. 

Silence  at  least  was  in  his  power  to  keep  : 

I  might  have  —  somehow  —  correspondingly  — 

Well,  who  knows  by  what  method,  gained  my  gains, 

Been  taught,  by  forthrights,  not  meanderings, 

My  aim  should  be  to  loathe,  like  Peleus'  son, 

A  lie  as  Hell's  Gate,  love  my  wedded  wife, 

Like  Hector,  and  so  on  with  all  the  rest. 

Could  not  I  have  excogitated  this 

Without  believing  such  men  really  were  ? 


liv  INTRODUCTION 

That  is  —  he  might  have  put  into  my  hand 

The  "  Ethics"  ?     In  translation,  if  you  please, 

Exact,  no  pretty  lying  that  improves, 

To  suit  the  modern  taste :  no  more,  no  less  — 

The  "Ethics"  :  'tis  a  treatise  I  find  hard 

To  read  aright  now  that  my  hair  is  gray, 

And  I  can  manage  the  original. 

At  five  years  old  —  how  ill  had  fared  its  leaves  ! 

Now,  growing  double  o'er  the  Stagirite, 

At  least  I  soil  no  page  with  bread  and  milk, 

Nor  crumple,  dogs-ear  and  deface  —  boys'  way. 


INTRODUCTION  Iv 


The  student  will  find  the  following  books  helpful  in 
the  study  of  Pope  and  his  translation  of  the  Iliad:  — 
Robert  Carruthers,  The  Life  of  Alexander  Pope,  Lon- 
don, 1857.  C.  W.  Dilke,  Papers  of  a  Critic,  1875. 
W.  J.  Courthope,  Life  of  Pope,  Vol.  V.  of  Elwin's  edi- 
tion of  Pope  (Murray),  10  vols.,  1871-1889.  The  Iliad 
of  Homer ;  translated  by  Mr.  Pope,  first  four  books, 
1715;  next  three  volumes,  1716,  1717,  1718 ;  last  two 
volumes  in  1720.  Leslie  Stephen,  "  Pope,"  in  the  series 
of  English  Men  of  Letters  (Harper),  1880.  De  Quin- 
cey,  "  Pope,"  in  Biographical  Essays.  De  Quincey, 
Ho7ner  and  the  Ho^neridce.  Lowell,  "  Pope,"  in  My 
Study  Windows.  E,.  C.  Jebb,  Introduction  to  the  Iliad 
and  the  Odyssey  (Ginn),  1887.  Walter  Leaf,  Comptan- 
ion  to  the  Iliad  (Macmillan),  1892.  G.  C.  W.  Warr, 
Tlie  Greek  Epic  (London),  1895.  J.  P.  Mahaffy,  Social 
Life  in  Greece  from  Homer  to  Menander  (Macmillan), 
1874.  Andrew  Lang,  Homer  and  the  Epic  (Long- 
mans), 1893.  Charles  Mills  Gayley,  Classic  Myths  in 
English  Literature  (Ginn),  1893, 


POPE'S  ILIAD 


BOOK  I 

THE  CONTENTION  OF   ACHILLES   AND   AGAMEMNON 

AcHiLLEs'°  wrath,  to  Greece  the  direful  spring 
Of  woes  unnumber'd,  heav'nly  goddess,°  sing ! 
That  Avrath  which  hurPd  to  Pluto's°  gloomy  reign° 
The  souls  of  mighty  chiefs  untimely  slain  ; 
Whose  limbs,°  unburied  on  the  naked  shore,  5 

Devouring  dogs  and  hungry  vultures  tore  : 
Since  great  Achilles  and  Atrides°  strove, 
Such°  was  the  sov'reign  doom,  and  such  the  will  of 
Jove ! 
Declare,  0  Muse  !  in  what  ill-fated  hour 
Sprung  the  fierce  strife,  from  what  offended  power  ?  lo 
Latona's°  son  a  dire  contagion  spread, 
And  heap'd  the  camp  with  mountains  of  the  dead ; 
The  king°  of  men  his  rev'rend°  priest  defied, 
And,  for  the  king's  offence,  the  people  died. 

B  1 


2  POPE'S   ILIAD 

For  Ohryses  sought  with  costly  gifts  to  gain  15 

His  captive  daiightei:  from  the  victor's  chain. 
Supplia-fii:  the  v?ener£^.ble  father  stands  ; 
Apollo's  awful  ensigns  grace  his  hands : 
By  these  he  begs ;  and,  lowly  bending  down, 
Extends  the  sceptre°  and  the  laurel  crown.  20 

He  sued  to  all,  but  chief  implor'd  for  grace 
The  brother-kings  of  Atreus'  royal  race : 

"  Ye°    kings    and   warriors !    may    yonr   vows    be 
crown'd, 
And  Troy's  proud  walls  lie  level  with  the  ground ; 
May  Jove  restore  you,  when  your  toils  are  o'er,  25 

Safe  to  the  pleasures  of  your  native  shore. 
But  oh !  relieve  a  wretched  parent's  pain, 
And  give  Chryseis°  to  these  arms  again ; 
If  mercy  fail,  yet  let  my  presents  move, 
And  dread  avenging  Phoebus,°  son  of  Jove."  30 

The  Greeks  in  shouts  their  joint  assent  declare. 
The  priest  to  rev'rence,  and  release  the  fair.° 
Not  so  Atrides :  he,  with  kingly  pride, 
Eepuls'd  the  sacred  sire,  and  thus  replied : 

"  Hence  on  thy  life,  and  fly  these  hostile  plains,     35 
Nor  ask,  presumptuous,  what  the  king  detains  j 
Hence,  with  thy  laurel  crown  and  golden  rod. 
Nor  trust  too  far  those  ensigns  of  thy  god. 


BOOK   I  3 

Mine  is  thy  daughter,  priest,  and  shall  remain ; 
And  prayers,  and  tears,  and  bribes,  shall   plead  in 
vain ;  40 

Till  time  shall  rifle  every  youthful  grace, 
And  age  dismiss  her  from  my  cold  embrace ; 
In  daily  labours  of  the  loom  employ'd, 
Or  doom'd  to  deck  the  bed  she  once  enjoy 'd. 
Hence  then  ;  to  Argos°  shall  the  maid  retire,  45 

Far  from  her  native  soil  and  weejoing  sire." 

The  trembling  priest  along  the  shore  return' d, 
And  in  the  anguish  of  a  father  mourn'd. 
Disconsolate,  not  daring  to  complain. 
Silent  he  wander'd°  by  the  sounding  main ;  50 

Till,  safe  at  distance,  to  his  god  he  prays. 
The  god  who  darts  around  the  world  his  rays  :      - 

"  0  Smintheus°  !  sprung  from  fair  Latona's  line, 
Thou  guardian  power  of  Cilla°  the  divine, 
Thou  source  of  light !  whom  Tenedos  adores,  55 

And  whose  bright  presence  gilds  thy  Chrysa's  shores ; 
If  e'er  with  wreaths  I  hung  thy  sacred  fane. 
Or  fed  the  flames  with  fat  of  oxen  slain  ; 
God  of  the  silver  bow  !  thy  shafts  employ, 
Avenge°  thy  servant,  and  the  Greeks  destroy.''  60 

Thus  Chryses  pray'd :  the  f av'ring  power  attends, 
And  from  Olympus'  lofty  tops  descends. ° 


4  POPE'S   ILIAD 

Bent  was  his  bow,  the  Grecian  hearts  to  w^oimd ; 

Fierce,  as  he  mov'd,  his  silver  shafts  resound. 

Breathing  revenge,  a  sudden  night  he  spread,  65 

And  gloomy  darkness  roll'd  around°  his  head. 

The  fleet  in  view,  he  twang'd  his  deadly  bow, 

And  hissing  fly  the  feather'd  fates  below. 

On  mules  and  dogs  th'  infection  first  began ; 

And  last,  the  vengeful  arrows  fix'd  in  man.  70 

For  nine  long  nights  through  ail  the  dusky  air 

The  pyres  thick-flaming  shot  a  dismal  glare. 

But  ere  the  tenth  revolving  day  was  run, 

Inspir'd  by  Juno,°  Thetis'°  god-like  son 

Conven'd  to  council  all  the  Grecian  train ;  75 

For  much  the  goddess  mourn'd  her  heroes  slain. 

Th'  assembly  seated,  rising  o'er  the  rest, 
Achilles  thus  the  king  of  men  address'd : 

"Why  leave  we  not  the  fatal  Trojan  shore. 
And  measure  back  the  seas  we  cross' d  before  ?  80 

The  plague  destroying  whom  the  sword  would  spare,° 
'Tis  time  to  save  the  few  remains  of  war.° 
But  let  some  prophet  or  some  sacred  sage 
Explore  the  cause  of  great  Apollo's  rage ; 
Or  learn  the  wasteful  vengeance  to  remove  85 

By  mystic°  dreams,  for  dreams  descend  from  Jove. 
If  broken  vows  this  heavy  curse  have  laid, 


BOOK   1  5 

Let  altars  smoke,  and  hecatombs°  be  paid. 

So  heav'n  aton'd  shall  dying  G-reece  restore, 

And  Phcebus  dart  his  burning  shafts  no  more."  9a 

He  said,  and  sate :  when  Calchas  thus  replied, 
Calchas°  the  wise,  the  Grecian  priest  and  guide, 
That  sacred  seer,  whose  comprehensive  view 
The  past,  the  present,  and  the  future  knew  : 
Uprising  slow,  the  venerable  sage  95 

Thus  spoke  the  prudence  and  the  fears  of  age ; 

''  Belov'd  of  Jove,  Achilles !  wouldst  thou  know 
Why  angry  Phoebus  bends  his  fatal  bow  ? 
First  give  thy  faith,'  and  plight  a  prince's  word 
Of  sure  protection,  by  thy  ^^ow'r  and  sword.  100 

For  I  must  speak  what  wisdom  would  conceal. 
And  truths  invidious  to  the  great  reveal. 
Bold  is  the  task,  when  subjects,  grown  too  wise, 
Instruct  a  monarch  where  his  error  lies ; 
For  though  we  deem  the  short-liv'd  fury  past,  105 

'Tis  sure,  the  mighty  will  revenge  at  last." 

To  whom  Pelides  :  '•  From  thy  inmost  soul 
Speak  what  thou  know'st,  and  speak  without  control. 
Ev'n  by  that  god  I  swear,  who  rules  the  day. 
To  whom  thy  hands  the  vows  of  Greece  convey,        no 
And  whose  blest  oracles  thy  lips  declare  : 
Long  as  Achilles  breathes  this  vital  air, 


6  POPE'S   ILIAD 

No  daring  Greek,  of  all  the  num'rous  band, 
Against  his  priest  shall  lift  an  impious  hand : 
Not  ev'n  the  chief  by  whom  our  hosts  are  led,  115 

The  king  of  kings,  shall  touch  that  sacred  head." 

Encourag'd  thus,  the  blameless^  man  replies : 
"  Nor  vows  unpaid,  nor  slighted  sacrifice. 
But  he,  our  chief,  provok'd  the  raging  pest, 
Apollo's  vengeance  for  his  injur'd  priest.  120 

Nor  will  the  god's  awaken'd  fury  cease. 
But  plagues  shall  spread,  and  fun'ral  fires  increase. 
Till  the  great  king,  without  a  ransom  paid. 
To  her  own  Chrysa  send  the  black-ey'd  °  maid. 
Perhaps,  with  added  sacrifice  and  pray'r,  125 

The  priest  may  pardon,  and  the  god  may  spare." 

The  prophet  spoke ;  when,  with  a  gloomy  frown, 
The  monarch  started  from  his  shining  throne ; 
Black  choler  fill'd  his  breast  that  boil'd  with  ire. 
And  from  his  eyeballs  flash 'd  the  living  fire.  130 

''  Augur  accurs'd !  denouncing  mischief  still, 
Prophet  of  plagues,  for  ever  boding  ill ! 
Still  must  that  tongue  some  wounding  message  bring. 
And  still  thy  priestly  pride  provoke  thy  king  ? 
For  this  are  Phoebus'  oracles  explor'd,  135 

To  teach  the  Greeks  to  murmur  at  their  lord  ? 
For  this  with  falsehoods  is  my  honour  stain'd, 


BOOK  I  7 

Is  heaven  offended,  and  a  priest  profan'd, 

Because  my  prize,  my  beauteous  maid,  I  hold, 

And  heav'nly  charms  prefer  to  proffer'd  gold?  140 

A  maid,  unmatch'd  in  manners  as  in  face, 

Skill'd  in  each  art,  and  crown'd  with  every  grace : 

Not  half  so  dear  were  Clytsemnestra's  °  charms. 

When  first  her  blooming  beauties  bless'd  my  arms. 

Yet,  if  the  gods  demand  her,  let  her  sail ;  145 

Our  cares  are  only  for  the  public  weal : 

Let  me  be  deem'd  the  hateful  cause  of  all, 

And  suffer,  rather  than  my  people  fall. 

The  prize,  the  beauteous  prize,  I  will  resign, 

So  dearly  valu'd,  and  so  justly  °  mine.  150 

But  since  for  common  good  I  yield  the  fair, 

]\[y  private  loss  let  grateful  Greece  repair ; 

Nor  unrewarded  let  your  prince  complain. 

That  he  alone  has  fought  and  bled  in  vaii 

"  Insatiate  king !  "  (Achilles  thus  re|mes) 
"  Fond  of  the  pow'r,  but  fonder  of  the  prize ! 
Wouldst  thou  the  Greeks  their  lawful  prey  should 

yield, 
The  due  reward  of  many  a  well-fought  °  field  ? 
The  spoils  of  cities  raz'd  and  warriors  slain. 
We  share  with  justice,  as  with  toil  we  gain:  160 

But  to  resume  Avhate'er  thy  av'rice  craves 


V 


8  POPE^S    ILIAD 

(That  trick  of  tyrants)  may  be  borne  by  slaves. 
Yet  if  our  chief  for  plunder  only  fight, 
The  spoils  of  Ilion  shall  thy  loss  requite, 
Whene'er,  by  Jove's  decree,  our  conqu'ring  pow'rs    165 
Shall  humble  to  the  dust  her  lofty  tow'rs." 

Then  thus  the  king :  ^'  Shall  I  my  prize  resign 
With  tame  content,  and  thou  possess'd  of  thine  ? 
Great  as  thou  art,  and  like  a  god  in  fight, 
Think  not  to  rob  me  of  a  soldier's  right.  170 

At  thy  demand  shall  I  restore  the  maid  ? 
First  let  the  just  equivalent  be  paid; 
Such  as  a  king  might  ask ;  and  let  it  be 
A  treasure  worthy  her,  and  worthy  me. 
Or  grant  me  this,  or  with  a  monarch's  claim  175 

This  hand  shall  seize  some  other  captive  dame. 
The  mighty  °  Ajax  shall  his  prize  resign, 
Ulysses'  spoils,  or  ev'n  thy  own,  be  mine. 
The  man  who  suffers,  loudly  may  complain ; 
And  rage  he  may,  but  he  shall  rage  in  vain.  180 

But  this  when  time  requires  —  it  now  remains 
We  launch  a  bark  to  plough  the  wat'ry  plains. 
And  waft  the  sacrifice  to  Chrysa's  shores, 
With  chosen  pilots,  and  with  lab'ring  oars. 
Soon  shall  the  fair  the  sable  ship  ascend,  185 

And  some  deputed  prince  the  charge  attend. 


BOOK   I 


This  Greta's"  king,  or  Ajax  shall  fulfil, 
Or  wise  Ulysses  see  perform'd  our  will ; 
Or,  if  our  royal  pleasure  shall  ordain, 
Achilles'  self  conduct  her  o'er  the  main; 
Let  fierce  Achilles,  dreadful  in  his  rage, 
The  god  propitiate,  and  the  pest  assuage." 
At  this,  Pelides,  frowning  stern,  replied : 
"  0  tyrant,  arin'd  with  insolence  and  pride ! 
Inglorious  slave  to  int'rest,  ever  join'd 
AVith  fraud,  unworthy  of  a  royal  mind ! 
What  gen'rous  Greek,  obedient  to  thy  word. 
Shall  form  an  ambush,  or  shall  lift  the  sword  ? 
What  cause  have  I  to  war  at  thy  decree  ? 
The  distant  Trojans  never  injur'd  me : 
To  Phthia's°  realms  no  hostile  troops  they  led; 
Safe  in  her  vales  my  warlike  coursers  fed ; 
Far  hence  remov'd,  the  hoarse-resounding  main 
And  walls  of  rocks  secure  my  native  reign. 
Whose  fruitful  soil  luxuriant  harvests  grace, 
Eich  in  her  fruits,  and  in  her  martial  race. 
Hither  we  sail'd,  a  voluntary  throng, 
T'  avenge  a  private,  not  a  public  wrong : 
What  else  to  Troy  th'  assembl'd  nations  draws. 
But  thine,  ungrateful,  and  thy  brother's  cause  ? 
Is  this  the  pay  our  blood  and  toils  deserve, 


190 


195 


20; 


10  POPE'S   ILIAD 

Disgrac'd  and  injur'd  by  the  man  we  serve? 

And  dar'st  thou  threat  to  snatch  my  prize  away, 

Due  to  the  deeds  of  many  a  dreadful  day, 

A  prize  as  small,  0  tyrant,  match'd  with  thine,         215 

As  thy  own  actions  if  compar'd  to  mine ! 

Thine  in  each  conquest  is  the  wealthy  prey. 

Though  mine  the  sweat  and  danger  of  the  day. 

Some  trivial  present  to  my  sliips  I  bear. 

Or  barren  praises  pay  the  wounds  of  w  ar.  220 

But  know,  proud  monarch,  I'm  thy  slave  no  more ; 

My  fleet  shall  waft  me  to  Tbessalia's  shore. 

Left  by  Achilles  on  the  Trojan  plain. 

What  spoils,  what  conquests,  shall  Atrides  gai 

To  this  the  king :  "  Fly,  mighty  warrior,  flyT 
Thy  aid  we  need  not  and  thy  threats  defy. 
There  want  not  chiefs  in  snch  a  cause  to  fight, 
And  Jove  himself  shall  guard  a  monarch's"  right. 
Of  all  the  kings  (the  gods'  distinguish'd  care) 
To  pow'r  su])erior  none  such  hatred  bear : .  23c 

Strife"  and  debate  thy  restless  soul  employ. 
And  wars  and  horrors  are  thy  savage  joy. 
If    thou   hast    strength,    'twas   heav'n   that    strength 

bestow'd, 
For  know,  vain  man !  thy  valour  is  from  God. 
Haste,  launch  thy  vessels,  fly  with  speed  away,        235 


BOOK   I  11 

Eiile  thy  own  realms  with  arbitrary  s^Yay  : 

I  heed  thee  not,  but  prize  at  equal  rate 

Thy  short-liv'd  friendship  and  thy  groundless  hate. 

Go,  threat  thy  earth-born  ]\Iyrmidons° ;  but  here 

'Tis  mine  to  threaten,  prince,  and  thine  to  fear.         240 

Know,  if  the  god  the  beauteous  dame  demand, 

My  bark  shall  waft  her  to  her  native  land ; 

But  then  prepare,  imperious  prince !  prepare. 

Fierce  as  thou  art,  to  yield  thy  captive  fair : 

Ev'n  in  thy  tent  I'll  seize  the  blooming  prize,  245 

Thy  lov'd  Briseis  with  the  radiant  eyes. 

Hence  shalt  thou  prove  my  might,  and  curse  the  hour 

Thou  stood'st  a  rival  of  imperial  pow"r ; 

And  hence  to  all  our  host  it  shall  be  known 

That  kings  are  subject  to  the  gods  alone."  250 

Achilles  heard,  with  grief  and  rage  oppress'd  ; 
His  heart  swell'd  high,  and  labour'd  in  his  breast. 
Pistracting  thoughts  b}'  turns  his  bosom  rul'd, 
Now  fir'd  by  wrath,  and  now  by  reason  cool'd : 
That  prompts  his  hand  to  draw  the  deadly  sword,    255 
Force  thro'  the  Greeks,  and  pierce  their  haughty  lord ; 
This  whispers  soft,  his  vengeance  to  control, 
And  calm  the  rising  tempest  of  his  soul. 
Just  as  in  anguish  of  suspense  he  stay'd, 
While  half  unsheath'd  appear'd  the  glitt'ring  blade,  260 


12  pope's    ILIAD 

Minerva  swift  descended  from  above, 

Sent  by  the  sister  and  the  wife  of  Jove 

(For  both  the  princes  claim'd  her  equal  care)  ; 

Behind  she  stood,  and  by  the  golden  hair 

Achilles  seiz'd ;  to  him  alone  confess'd,°  265 

A  sable  cloud  conceal'd  her  from  the  rest. 

He  sees,  and  sudden  to  the  goddess  cries, 

Known  by  the  flames  that  sparkle  from  her  eyes : 

"Descends  Minerva  in  her  guardian  care, 
A  heav'nly  witness  of  the  wrongs  I  bear  270 

From  Atreus'  son  ?     Then  let  those  eyes  that  view 
The  daring  crime,  behold  the  vengeance  too." 

"  Forbear !  "  (the  progeny  of  Jove  replies) 
"  To  calm  thy  fury  I  forsake  the  skies : 
Let  great  Achilles,  to  the  gods  resign'd,  275 

To  reason  yield  the  empire  o'er  his  mind. 
By  awful  Juno  this  command  is  giv'n; 
The  king  and  you  are  both  the  care  of  lieav'n. 
The  force  of  keen  reproaches  let  him  feel. 
But  sheath,  obedient,  thy  revenging  steel.  280 

For  I  pronounce  (and  trust  a  heav'nly  pow'r) 
Thy  injur'd  honour  has  its  fated  hour, 
When  the  proud  monarch  shall  thy  arms  implore. 
And  bribe  thy  friendship  with  a  boundless  store. 
Then  let  revenge  no  longer  bear  the  sway,  285 


BOOK   I  13 

Command  thy  passions,  and  the  gods  obey." 

To  her  Pelides  :  "  With  regardful  ear, 
'Tis  just,  0  goddess !  I  thy  dictates  hear. 
Hard  as  it  is,  ni}^  vengeance  I  suppress : 
Those  who  revere  the  gods,  the  gods  will  bless."       290 
He  said,  observant  of  the  blue-ey'd  maid ; 
Then  in  the  sheath  return'd  the  shining  blade. 
The  goddess  swift  to  high  Olympus  flies, 
And  joins  the  sacred  senate  of  the  skies. 

Nor  yet  the  rage  his  boiling  breast  forsook,  295 

Which  thus  redoubling  on  Atrides  broke : 
"  0°  monster  I  mix'd  of  insolence  and  fear. 
Thou  dog  in  forehead,  but  in  heart  a  deer ! 
When  wert  thou  known  in  ambush'd  fights  to  dare, 
Or  nobly  face  the  horrid  front  of  war  ?  300 

'Tis  ours  the  chance  of  fighting  fields  to  try ; 
Thine  to  look  on  and  bid  the  valiant  die. 
So  much  'tis  safer  thro'  the  camp  to  go, 
And  rob  a  subject,  than  despoil  a  foe. 
Scourge  of  thy  people,  violent  and  base  !  305 

Sent  in  Jove's  anger  on  a  slavish  race, 
Who,  lost  to  sense  of  gen'rous  freedom  past, 
Are  tam'd  to  wrongs,  or  this  had  been  thy  last. 
Now  by  this  sacred°  sceptre  hear  me  swear, 
Which  never  more  shall  leaves  or  blossoms  bear,      310 


14  POPE^S   ILIAD 


X 


Which,  sever'd  from  the  trunk  (as  I  from  thee), 

On  the  bare  mountains  left  its  parent  tree ; 

This  sceptre,  form'd  by  temper'd  steel  to  prove 

An  ensign  of  the  delegates  of  Jove, 

From  whom  the  pow'r  of  laws°  and  justice  springs  315 

(Tremendous  oath  !  inviolate  to  kings)  : 

By  this  I  swear,  when  bleeding  Greece  again 

Shall  call  Achilles,  she  shall  call  in  vain. 

When,  flush'd  \\AW\  slaughter,  Hector  comes  to  spread 

The  purpled  shore  with  mountai^iS  of  the  dead,         320 

Then  shalt  thou  mourn  th'  affront  thy  madness  gave, 

Forc'd  to  deplore,  when  impotent  to  save  : 

Then  rage  in  bitterness  of  soul,  to  know 

This  act  has  made  the  bravest  Greek  thy  foe.'^;^^^ 

He  spoke ;  and  furious  hurPd  against  the  ground  325 
His  sceptre  starr'd  with  gold en°  studs  around; 
Then  sternly  silent  sate.     With  like  disdain, 
The  raging  king  return'd  his  frowns  again. 

To  calm  their  passion  with  the  words  of  age. 
Slow  from  his  seat  arose  the  Pylian  sage,  330 

Experienc'd  Nestor,°  in  persuasion  skill'd ; 
Words  sweet  as  honey  from  his  lips  distill'd : 
Two  generations  now  had  pass'd  away, 
Wise  by  his  rules,  aud  happy  by  his  sway ; 
Two  ages  o'er  his  native  realm  he  reign' d,  335 


BOOK  1  15 

And  now  tli'  examj^le  of  the  third  remain'd. 
All  view'd  with  awe  the  venerable  man, 
Who  thus  with  mild  benevolence  began : 

''What  shame,  what  woe  is  this  to  Greece!  what  joy 
To  Troy's  proud  monarch  and  the  friends  of  Troy !  340 
That  adverse  gods  commit  to  stern  debate 
The  best,  the  bravest,  of  the  Grecian  state. 
Young  as  ye  are,  this  youthful  heat  restrain, 
Nor  think  your  Nestor's  years  and  wisdom  vain. 
A  godlike  race  of  heroes  once  I  knew,  345 

Such  as  no  more  these  aged  eyes  shall  view^ ! 
Lives  there  a  chief  to  match  Pirithous'°  fame, 
Dryas  the  bold,  or  Ceneus'°  deathless  name ; 
Theseus,  endued  with  more  than  mortal  might. 
Or  Polyphemus,"  like  the  gods  in  light  ?  350 

With  these  of  old  to  toils  of  battle  bred, 
In  early  youth  my  hardy  days  I  led ; 
Fir'd  with  the  thirst  which  virtuous  envy  breeds. 
And  smit  with  love  of  honourable  deeds. 
Strongest"  of  men,  they  pierc'd  the  mountain  boar,  355 
Eang'd  the  wild  deserts  red  with  monsters'  gore, 
And  from  their  hills  the  shaggy  Centaurs  tore. 
Yet  these  with  soft  persuasive  arts  I  sway'd : 
When  Nestor  spoke,  they  listen'd  and  obey'd. 
If  in  my  youth,  ev'n  these  esteem'd  me  wise,  360 


16  POPE^S    ILIAD 

Do  you,  young  warriors,  hear  my  age  advise. 

Atrides,  seize  not  on  the  beauteous  slave ; 

That  prize  the  Greeks  by  common  suffrage  gave : 

Nor  thou,  Achilles,  treat  our  prince  with  pride ; 

Let  kings  be  just,  and  sov'reign  pow'r  preside.  365 

Thee  the  first  honours  of  the  war  adorn, 

Like  gods  in  strength  and  of  a  goddess  born ; 

Him  awful  majesty  exalts  above 

The  pow'rs  of  earth  and  sceptred  sons  of  Jove. 

Let  both  unite  with  well-consenting  mind,  370 

So  shall  authority  with  strength  be  join'd.° 

Leave  me,  0  king!  to  calm  Achilles'  rage; 

Eule  thou  thyself,  as  more  advanc'd  in  age. 

Forbid  it,  gods !  Achilles  should  be  lost, 

The  pride  of  Greece,  and  bulwark  of  our  host."         375 

This  said,  he  ceas'd  ;  the  king  of  men  replies : 
"  Thy  years  are  awful,  and  thy  words  are  wise. 
But  that  imperious,  that  unconquer'd  soul, 
No  laws  can  limit,  no  respect  control : 
Before  his  ]3ride  must  his  superiors  fall,  380 

His  word  the  law,  and  he  the  lord  of  all  ? 
Him  must  our  hosts,  our  chiefs,  ourself  obey  ? 
What  king  can  bear  a  rival  in  his  sway  ? 
Grant  that  the  gods  his  matchless  force  have  giv'n; 
Has  foul  reproach  a  privilege  from  heav'n  ?  "  3S5 


nooK  I  17 

Here  on  the  monarch's  speech  Achilles  broke, 
And  furious,  thus,  and  interrupting,  spoke  : 
"  Tyrant,  I  well  deserv'd  thy  galling  chain, 
To  live  thy  slave,  and  still  to  serve  in  vain. 
Should  I  submit  to  each  unjust  decree :  390 

Command  thy  vassals,  but  command  not  me. 
Seize  on  Briseis,  whom  the  Grecians  doom'd 
My  prize  of  war,  yet  tamely  see  resum'd  ; 
And  seize  secure ;  no  more  Achilles  draws 
His  conqu'ring  sword  in  any  woman's  cause.  395 

The  gods  command  me  to  forgive  the  past ; 
But  let  this  first  invasion  be  the  last : 
For  know,  thy  blood,  when  next  thou  dar'st  invade. 
Shall  stream  in  vengeance  on  my  reeking  blade." 

At  this  they  ceas'd ;  the  stern  debate  expir'd :       400 
The  chiefs  in  sullen  majesty  retir'd. 

Achilles  with  Patroclus  took  his  way, 
Where  near  his  tents  his  hollow  vessels  lay. 
Meantime  Atrides  launch'd  with  num'rous  oar^ 
A  well-rigg'd  ship  for  Chrysa's  sacred  shores  :  405 

High  on  the  deck  was  fair  Chryseis  plac'd, 
And  sage  Ulysses  with  the  conduct  grac'd : 
Safe  in  her  sides  the  hecatomb  they  stow'd. 
Then,  swiftly  sailing,  cut  the  liquid  road. 

The  host  to  expiate  next  the  king  prepares,  410 

c 


18  POPE'S   ILIAD 

With  pure  lustrations  and  with  solemn  pray'rs. 

Wash'd  by  the  briny  °  wave,  the  pious  train 

Are  cleans'd ;  and  cast  th'  ablutions  in  the  main. 

Along  the  shores  whole  hecatombs  were  laid, 

And  bulls  and  goats  to  Phoebus'  altars  paid.  415 

The  sable  fumes  in  curling  spires  arise, 

And  waft  their  grateful  odours  to  the  slugs. 

The  army  thus  in  sacred  rites  engag'd, 
Atrides  still  with  deep  resentment  rag'd. 
To  wait  his  will  two  sacred  heralds  stood^  420 

Talthybius  °  and  Eurybates  °  the  good. 
"  Haste  to  the  fierce  Achilles'  tent,"  he  cries, 
"  Thence  bear  Briseis  as  our  royal  prize : 
Submit  he  m_ust ;  or,  if  they  will  not  part, 
Ourself  in  arms  shall  tear  her  from  his  heart."  425 

Th'  unwilling  heralds  act  their  lord's  commands ; 
Pensive  they  walk  along  the  barren  sands : 
Arriv'd,  the  hero  in  his  tent  they  find, 
With  gloomy  aspect,  on  his  arm  reclin'd. 
At  awful  distance  long  they  silent  stand,  430 

Loth  to  advance  or  speak  their  hard  command ; 
Decent  confusion  !     This  the  godlike  man 
Perceiv'd,  and  thus  with  accent  mihl  began  : 

"  With  leave  and  honour  enter  our  abodes. 
Ye  sacred  ministers  of  men  and  gods  !  433 


BOOK  I  19 

I  kno\v  your  message;  by  constraint  you  came; 

jSTot  you,  but  your  imperious  lord,  I  blame. 

Patroclus,  baste,  tiie  fair  Brise'is  bring ; 

Conduct  my  captive  to  the  haughty  king. 

But  witness,  heralds,  and  proclaim  my  vow,  440 

Witness  to  gods  above  and  men  below ! 

But  first  and  loudest  to  your  prince  declare,        • 

That  lawless  tyrant  whose  commands  you  bear; 

Unmov'd  as  death  Achilles  shall  remain, 

Tho'  prostrate  Greece  should  bleed  at  ev'ry  vein :     445 

The  raging  chief  in  frantic  passion  lost. 

Blind  to  himself,  and  useless  to  his  host, 

Unskill'd  to  judge  the  future  by  the  past, 

In  blood  and  slaughter  shall  repent  at  last." 

Patroclus  now  th'  unwilling  beauty  brought;         450 
She,  in  soft  sorrows  and  in  pensive  thought, 
Pass'd  silent,  as  the  heralds  held  her  hand, 
And  oft  look'd  back,  slow-moving  o'er  the  strand. 

Xot  so  his  loss  the  fierce  Achilles  bore ; 
But  sad  retiring  to  the  sounding  shore,  455 

O'er  the  Avild  margin  of  the  deep  he  hung. 
That  kindred  deep  from  whence  his  mother  sprung ; 
There,  bath'd  in  tears  of  anger  and  disdain. 
Thus  loud  lamented  to  the  stormy  main: 

"  0  parent  °  goddess  !  since  in  early  bloom  460 


20  POPE'S    ILIAD 

Thy  son  must  fall,  by  too  severe°  a  doom ; 

Sure,  to  so  short  a  race  of  glory  born, 

Great  Jove  in  justice  should  this  span  adorn. 

Honour  and  fame  at  least  the  Thund'rer  ow'd; 

And  ill  he  pays  the  promise  of  a  god,  465 

If  yon  proud  monarch  thus  thy  son  defies, 

Obscitres  my  glories,  and  resumes  my  prize." 

Far  in  the  deep  recesses  of  the  main, 
Where  aged  °  Ocean  holds  his  wat'ry  reign, 
The  goddess-mother  heard.     The  waves  divide ;        470 
And  like  a  mist  she  rose  above  the  tide ; 
Beheld  him  mourning  on  the  naked  shores, 
And  thus  the  sorrows  of  his  soul  explores: 
"  Why  grieves  my  son  ?     Thy  anguish  let  me  share, 
Eeveal  the  cause,  and  trust  a  parent's  care."  475 

He,  deeply  sighing,  said  :  ''  To  tell  my  woe 
Is  but  to  mention  what  too  well  you  know. 
From  Thebe,°  sacred  to  Apollo's  name, 
Eetion's°  realm,  our  conqu'ring  army  came, 
With  treasure  loaded  and  triumphant  spoils,  480 

Whose  just  division  crown'd  the  soldier's  toils; 
But  bright  Chryseis,  heav'nly  prize !  was  led 
By  vote  selected  to  the  gen'ral's  bed. 
The  priest  of  Phoebus  sought  by  gifts  to  gain 
His  beauteous  daughter  from  the  victor's  chain;       485 


BOOK    I  21 

The  fleet  he  reachxl,  and,  lowly  bending  down, 

Held  forth  the  sceptre  and  the  laurel  crown. 

Entreating  all ;  but  chief  implor'd  for  grace 

The  brother-kings  of  Atreus'  royal  race. 

The  gen'rous  Greeks  their  joint  consent  declare,       490 

The  priest  to  rev'rence,  and  release  the  fair. 

Not  so  Atrides :  he,  with  wonted  pride, 

The  sire  insulted,  and  his  gifts  denied : 

Th'  insulted  sire  (his  god's  peculiar  care) 

To  Phoebus  pray'd,  and  Pha?bus  heard  the  pray'r  :    495 

A  dreadful  plague  ensues ;  th'  avenging  darts 

Incessant  fly,  and  pierce  the  Grecian  hearts. 

A  prophet  then,  inspir'd  by  heav'n,  arose, 

And  points  the  crime,  and  thence  derives  the  woes : 

Myself  the  first  th'  assembled  chiefs  incline  500 

T'  avert  the  vengeance  of  the  pow'r  divine ; 

Then,  rising  in  his  wrath,  the  monarch  storm'd ; 

Incens'd  he  threaten'd,  and  his  threats  perform'd  : 

The  fair  Chryseis  to  her  sire  was  sent. 

With  offer'd  gifts  to  make  the  god  relent ;  505 

But  now  he  seiz'd  Briseis'  heav'nly  charms, 

And  of  my  valour's  prize  defrauds  my  arms. 

Defrauds  the  votes  of  all  the  Grecian  train ; 

And  service,  faith,  and  justice  plead  in  vain. 

But,  goddess  !  thou  thy  suppliant  son  attend,  510 


22  POPE'S    ILIAD 

To  high  Olympus'  shining  court  ascend, 

Urge  all  the  ties  to  former  service  ow'd, 

And  sue  for  vengeance  to  the  thund'ring  god. 

Oft  hast  thou  triumph'd  in  the  glorious  boast 

That°  thou  stood'st  forth,  of  all  tli'  ethereal  host,     515 

When  bold  rebellion  shook  the  realms  above, 

Th'  undaunted  guard  of  cloud-compelling  Jove, 

When  the  bright  partner  of  his  awful  reign. 

The  warlike  °  maid,  and  monarch  °  of  the  main. 

The  traitor-gods,  by  mad  ambition  driv'n,  320 

Durst  threat  with  chains  th'  omnipotence  of  heav'n. 

Then  call'd  by  thee,  the  monster  Titan  came 

(Whom  gods  Briareiis,  men  ^geon  name) ; 

Through  ^vand'ring  skies  enormous  stalk'd  along, 

Not  he  that  shakes  the  solid  earth  so  strong :  525 

AVith  giant-pride  at  Jove's  high  throne  he  stands, 

And  brandish'd  round  him  all  his  hundred  hands. 

Th'  affrighted  gods  confess'd  their  awful  lord. 

They  dropp'd  the  fetters,  trembled  and  ador'd. 

This,  goddess,  this  to  his  rememb'rance  call,  53c 

Embrace  °  his  knees,  at  his  tribunal  fall ; 

Conjure  him  far  to  drive  the  Grecian  train. 

To  hurl  them  headlong  to  their  fleet  and  main. 

To  heap  the  shores  with  copious  death,  and  bring 

The  Greeks  to  know  the  curse  of  such  a  king :  535 


BOOK   I  23 

Let  Agamemnon  lift  his  haughty  head 

O'er  all  his  wide  dominion  of  the  dead, 

And  mourn  in  blood,  that  e'er  he  durst  disgrace 

The  boldest  warrior  of  the  Grecian  race.'V^ 

"  Unhappy  son  !  "  (fair  Thetis  thus  replies,  540 

While  tears  celestial  trickle  from  her  eyes) 
''  Why  have  I  borne  thee  with  a  mother's  throes, 
To  fates  averse,  and  nurs'd  for  future  woes  ? 
So  short  a  space  the  light  of  heav'n  to  view ! 
So  short  a  space  I  and  filFd  with  sorrow,  too !  545 

Oh,  might  a  parent's  careful  wish  prevail, 
Far,  far  from  Ilion  should  thy  vessels  sail, 
And  thou,  from  camps  remote,  the  danger  shun, 
Which  now,  alas  !  too  nearly  threats  my  son  ; 
Yet  (what  I  can)  to  move  thy  suit  I'll  go  550 

To  great  Olympus  crown'd  with  fleecy  snow. 
Meantime,  secure  within  thy  ships,  from  far 
Behold  the  field,  nor  mingle  in  the  war. 
The  sire  of  gods  and  all  th'  ethereal  train 
On  the  warm  °  limits  of  the  farthest  main,  555 

Xow  mix  with  mortals,  nor  disdain  to  grace 
The  feasts  of  .Ethiopia's  °  blameless  race  : 
Twelve  days  the  pow'rs  indulge  the  genial  rite, 
Returning  with  the  twelfth  revolving  light. 
Then  will  I  mount  the  brazen  dome,  and  move  560 


24  POPE'S    ILIAD 

The  high  tribunal  of  immortal  Jove." 

The  goddess  spoke  :  the  rolling  waves  unclose ; 
Then  down  the  deep  she  plung'd,  from  whence  she 

rose, 
And  left  him  sorrowing  on  the  lonely  coast, 
In  wild  resentment  for  the  fair  he  lost.  565 

In  Chrysa's  port  now  sage  Ulysses  rode ; 
Beneath  the  deck  the  destin'd  victims  stow'd ; 
The  sails  they  furl'd,  they  lash'd  the  mast  aside, 
And  dropp'd  their  anchors,  and  the  pinnace  tied. 
Next  on  the  shore  their  hecatomb  they  land,  570 

Chryseis  last  descending  on  the  strand. 
Her,  thus  returning  from  the  furrow'd  main, 
Ulysses  led  to  Phoebus'  sacred  fane ; 
Where,  at  his  solemn  altar,  as  the  maid 
He  gave  to  Chryses,  thus  the  l^ero  said :  575 

"  Hail,  rev'rend  priest !  to  Phoebus'  awful  dome  ° 
A  suppliant  I  from  great  Atrides  come : 
Unransom'd  here  receive  the  spotless  fair ; 
Accept  the  hecatomb  the  Greeks  prepare ;  ' 
And  may  thy  god,  who  scatters  darts  around,  58c 

Aton'd  by  sacrifice,  desist  to  wound." 

At  this  the  sire  embrac'd  the  maid  again. 
So  sadly  lost,  so  lately  sought  in  vain. 
Then  near  the  altar  of  the  darting  king, 


BOOK   I  25 

Dispos'd  in  rank  tlieir  hecatomb  they  bring :  585 

"\yith°  water  purify  their  hands,  and  take 
The  sacred  off'ring  of  the  salted  cake ; 
While  thus,  with  arms  devoutly  rais'd  in  air, 
And  solemn  voice,  the  priest  directs  his  pray'r : 

"  God  of  the  silver  bow,  thy  ear  incline,  590 

Whose  pow'r  encircles  Cilia  the  divine ; 
Whose  sacred  eye  thy  Tenedos  surveys, 
And  gilds  fair  Chrysa  with  distinguish'd  rays  ! 
If,  fir'd  to  vengeance  at  thy  priest's  request, 
Thy  direful  darts  inflict  the  raging  pest;  595 

Once  more  attend  !  avert  the  wasteful  woe, 
And  smile  propitious,  and  unbend  thy  bow." 

So  Chryses  pray'd;  Apollo  heard  his  pray'r: 
And  now  the  Greeks  their  hecatomb  prepare ; 
Between  their  horns  the  salted  barley  threw,  600 

And  with  their  heads  to  heav'n  the  victims  slew: 
The  limbs  they  sever  from  th'  inclosing  hide ; 
The  thighs,  selected  to  the  gods,  divide : 
On  these,  in  double  cauls  involv'd  with  art, 
The  choicest  morsels  lay  from  ev'ry  part.  605 

The  priest  himself  before  his  altar  stands. 
And  burns  the  off'ring  with  his  holy  hands, 
Pours  the  black  wine,  and  sees  the  flame  aspire; 
The  youths  with  instruments"  surround  the  fire : 


26  POPE'S    ILIAD 

The  thighs  thus  sacrific'd,  and  entrails  dress'd,         6io 

Th'  assistants  part,  transfix,  and  roast  the  rest: 

Then  spread  the  tables,  the  repast  prepare, 

Each  takes  his  seat,  and  each  receives  his  share. 

When  now  the  rage  of  hunger  was  repress'd, 

With  pure  libations  they  conclude  the  feast;  615 

The  youths  with  wine  the  copious  goblets  crown'd, 

And,  pleas'd,  dispense  the  flowing  bowls  around. 

With  hymns  divine  the  joyous  banquet  ends. 

The  p3eans°  lengthen'd  till  the  sun  descends  : 

The  Greeks,  restor'd,  the  grateful  notes  prolong :      62a 

Apollo  listens,  and  approves  the  song. 

'Twas  night;  the  chiefs  beside  their  vessel  lie, 
Till  rosy  morn  had  purpled  o'er  the  sky : 
Then  launch,  and  hoise  the  mast;  indulgent  gales. 
Supplied  by  Phoebus,  fill  the  swelling  sails;  625 

The  milk-white  canvas  bellying  as  they  blow, 
The  parted  ocean  foams  and  roars  below: 
Above  the  bounding  billows  swift  they  flew. 
Till  now  the  Grecian  camp  appear'd  in  view. 
Far  on  the  beach  tlipy  hauF  their  bark  to  land  630 

(The  crooked  keel  divides  the  yellow  sand), 
Then  part,  where,  stretch'd  along  the  winding  bay. 
The  ships  and  tents  in  mingled  prospect  lay. 

But,  raging  still,  amidst  his  navy  sate 


BOOK  I  27 

The  stern  Achilles,  steadfast  in  his  hate;  635 

Xor  mix'd  in  combat  nor  in  council  join'd ; 
But  wasting  cares  lay  heavy  on  his  mind; 
In  his  black  thoughts  revenge  and  slaughter  roll, 
And  scenes  of  blood  rise  dreadful  in  his  soul.  639 

Twelve  days  were  past,  and  now  the  dawning  light 
The  gods  had  summon'd  to  th'  Olympian  height : 
Jove,  first  ascending  from  the  wat'ry  bow'rs. 
Leads  the  long  order  of  ethereal  pow'rs. 
When,  like  the  morning  mist,  in  early  day, 
Rose  from  the  flood  the  daughter  of  the  sea;  645 

And  to  the  seats  divine  her  flight  address'd. 
There,  far  apart,  and  high  above  the  rest. 
The  Thund'rer  sate ;  where  old  Olympus  shrouds 
His  hundred  heads  in  heav'n  and  props  the  clouds. 
Suppliant  the  goddess  stood:  one  hand  she  plac'd    650 
Beneath  his  beard,  and  one  his  knees  embrac'd. 
"  If  e'er,  0  father  of  the  gods  !  "  she  said, 
"  My  words  could  please  thee,  or  my  actions  aid ; 
Some  marks  of  honour  on  my  son  bestow. 
And  pay  in  glory  what  in  life  you  owe.  655 

Fame  is  at  least  by  heav'nly  promise  due 
To  life  so  short,  and  now  dishonour'd,  too. 
Avenge  this  wrong,  0  ever  just  and  wise ! 
Let  Greece  be  humbled,  and  the  Trojans  rise; 


28  POPE'S    ILIAD 

Till  the  proud  king,  and  all  th.'  Achaian  race,  66a 

Shall  heax)  with  honours  him  they  now  disgrace." 

Thus  Thetis  sjjoke,  but  Jove  in  silence  held 
The  sacred  councils  of  his  breast  conceal'd. 
Not  so  repuls'd,  the  goddess  closer  press'd, 
Still  grasp'd  his  knees,  and  urg'd  the  dear  request.  665 
"  0  sire  of  gods  and  men  !  thy  suppliant  hear ; 
Eefuse,  or  grant ;  for  what  has  Jove  to  fear  ? 
Or,  oh  !  declare,  of  all  the  pow'rs  above. 
Is  wretched  Thetis  least  the  care  of  Jove  ?  " 

She  said,  and  sighing  thus  the  god  replies,  670 

Who  rolls  the  thunder  o'er  the  vaulted  skies : 

"  What  hast  thou  ask'd  ?     Ah !   why  should  Jove 
engage 
In  foreign  contests  and  domestic  rage, 
The  gods'  complaints,  and  Juno's  fierce  alarms, 
While  I,  too  partial,  aid  the  Trojan  arms  ?  675 

Go,  lest  the  haughty  partner  of  my  sway 
With  jealous  eyes  thy  close  access  survey ; 
But  part  in  peace,  secure  thy  pray'r  is  sped: 
Witness  the  sacred  honours  of  our  head, 
The  nod  that  ratifies  the  will  divine,  680 

The  faithful,  fix'd,  irrevocable  sign ; 
This  seals  thy  suit,  and  this  fulfils  thy  vows  "  — 
He°  spoke,  and  awful  bends  his  sable  brows, 


BOOK  I  29 

Shakes  his  ambrosial  curls,  and  gives  the  nod, 
The  stamp  of  fate,  the  sanction  of  the  god  :  685 

High  heav'n  with  trembling  the  dread  signal^took, 
And  all  Olympus  to  the  centre  shookj^r'''" 

Swift  to  the  seas  profound  the  goddess  flies, 
Jove  to  his  starry  mansion  in  the  skies. 
The  shining  synod  of  th'  immortals  wait  690 

The  coming  god,  and  from  their  thrones  of  state 
Arising  silent,  rapt  in  holy  fear. 
Before  the  majesty  of  heav'n  appear. 
Trembling  they  stand,  while  Jove  assumes  the  throne. 
All  but  the  god's  imperious  queen  alone :  695 

Late  had  she  view'd  the  silver-footed  dame, 
And  all  her  passions  kindled  into  flame. 
"  Say,  artful  manager  of  heav'n  "  (she  cries), 
"  Who  now  partakes  the  secrets  of  the  skies  ? 
Thy  Juno  knows  not  the  decrees  of  fate,  700 

In  vain  the  partner  of  imperial  state. 
What  fav'rite  goddess  then  those  cares  divides, 
Which  Jove  in  prudence  from  his  consort  hides  ?  '^ 

To  this  the  Thund'rer  :  '•  Seek  not  thou  to  find 
The  sacred  counsels  of  almighty  mind  :  705 

Involv'd  in  darkness  lies  the  great  decree, 
Nor  can  the  depths  of  fate  be  pierc'd  by  thee. 
What  fits  thy  knowledge,  thou  the  first  shalt  know : 


30  POPE\S    ILIAD 

The  first  of  gods  above  and  men  below ; 

But  thou  nor  they  shall  search  the  thoughts  that  roll  710 

Deep  in  the  close  recesses  of  my  soul." 

Eull  on  the  sire,  the  goddess  of  the  skies 
Eoll'd  the  large  orbs  of  her  majestic  eyes, 
And  thus  return'd  :  "  Austere  Saturnius,°  say, 
From  whence  this  wrath,  or  who  controls  thy  sway  ?  715 
Thy  boundless  will,  for  me,  remains  in  force, 
And  all  thy  counsels  take  the  destin'd  course : 
But  'tis  for  Greece  I  fear :  for  late  was  seen 
In  close  consult^  the  silver-footed  queen. 
Jove  to  his  Thetis  nothing  could  deny,  720 

Nor  was  the  signal  vain  that  shook  the  sky. 
What  fatal  favour  has  the  goddess  won, 
To  grace  her  fierce  inexorable  son  ? 
Perhaps  in  Grecian  blood  to  drench  the  plain. 
And  glut  his  vengeance  with  my  people  slain."         725 

Then  thus  the  god :  "  Oh,  restless  fate  of  pride. 
That  strives  to  learn  what  heav'n  resolves  to  hide ! 
Vain  is  the  search,  presumptuous  and  abhorr'd. 
Anxious  to  thee  and  odious  to  thy  lord. 
Let  this  suffice ;  th'  immutable  decree  730 

No  force  can  shake :  what°  is  that  ouglit  to  be. 
Goddess,  submit,  nor  dare  our  will  withstand. 
But  dread  the  pow'r  of  this  avenging  hand ; 


BOOK    I  ^1 

Th'  united  strength  of  all  the  gods  above 

In  vain  resists  th'  omnipotence  of  Jove."  735 

The°  Thund'rer  spoke,  nor  durst  the  queen  reply ; 
A  rev'rend  horror  silenc'd  all  the  sky. 
The  feast  disturb'd,  with  sorrow  Yulcan  saw 
His  mother  menac'd,  and  the  gods  in  awe ; 
Peace  at  his  heart,  and  pleasure  his  design,  740 

Thus  interpos'd  the  architect°  divine  : 
"  The  wretched  quarrels  of  the  mortal  state 
Are  far  unworthy,  gods  !  of  your  debate : 
Let  men  their  days  in  senseless  strife  employ ; 
We,  in  eternal  peace  and  constant  joy.  745 

Thou,  goddess-mother,  with  our  sire  comply, 
Nor  break  the  sacred  union  of  the  sky : 

Lest,  rous'd  to  rage,  he  shake  the  blest  abodes, 

Launch  the  red  lightning,  and  dethrone  the  gods. 

If  you  submit,  the  Thund'rer  stands  appeas'd.  750 

The  gracious  pow'r  is  willing  to  be  pleas'd." 
Thus  Vulcan  spoke  ;  and,  rising  with  a  bound. 

The  double  bowl  with  sparkling  nectar  crown' d, 

Which  held  to  Juno  in  a  cheerful  way, 

"  Goddess,"  he  cried,  "  be  patient  and  obey.  755 

Dear  as  you  are,  if  Jove  his  arm  extend, 

I  can  but  grieve,  unable  to  defend. 

What  god  so  daring  in  your  aid  to  move, 


32  POPE'S  ILIAD 

Or  lift  his  hand  against  the  force  of  Jove  ? 

Once  in  your  cause  I  °  felt  his  matchless  might,         760 

Hurl'd  headlong  downward  from  th'  ethereal  height ; 

Toss'd  all  the  day  in  rapid  circles  round ; 

Nor,  till  the  sun  descended,  touch'd  the  ground : 

Breathless  I  fell,  in  giddy  motion  lost; 

The  Sinthians  °  rais'd  me  on  the  Lemnian  coast."     765 

He  said,  and  to  her  hands  the  goblet  heav'd, 
Which,  with  a  smile,  the  white-arm'd  queen  receiv'd. 
Then  to  the  rest  he  fill'd ;  and,  in  his  turn, 
Each  to  his  lips  applied  the  nectar'd  urn. 
Vulcan  with  awkward  grace  his  office  plies,  770 

And  unextinguish'd  °  laughter  shakes  the  skies. 

Thus  the  blest  gods  the  genial  day  prolong, 
In  feasts  ambrosial  and  celestial  song. 
Apollo  tun'd  the  lyre  ;  the  muses  round 
With  voice  alternate  aid  the  silver  sound.  775 

Meantime  the  radiant  sun,  to  mortal  sight 
Descending  swift,  roll'd  down  the  rapid  light. 
Then  to  their  starry  domes  the  gods  depart. 
The  shining  monuments  of  Vulcan's  art : 
Jove  on  his  couch  reclin'd  his  awful  head,  780 

And  Juno  slumber'd  on  the  golden  bed. 


BOOK   VI 

THE    EPISODES    OF    GLAUCUS    AND    DIOMED,    AND 
OF  HECTOR   AND   ANDROMACHE 

Now  lieav'ii  forsakes  the  fight ;  th'  immortals  yield 
To  human  force  and  human  skill  the  field : 
Dark  show'rs  of  jav'lins  fly  from  foes  to  foes ; 
Now  here,  now  there,  the  tide  of  combat  flows ; 
While  Troy's  fam'd  streams,  that  bound  the  deathful 
plain,  5 

On  either  side  run  purple  to  the  main. 

Great  Ajax  °  first  to  conquest  led  the  way, 
Broke  the  thick  ranks,  and  turn'd  the  doubtful  day. 
The  Thracian  Acamas  his  falchion°  found, 
And  hew'd  th'  enormous  giant  to  the  ground ;  lo 

His  thund'ring  arm  a  deadly  stroke  impress'd 
Where  the  black  horse-hair  nodded  o'er  his  crest : 
Fix'd  in  his  front  the  brazen  weapon  lies, 
And  seals  in  endless  shades  his  swimming  eyes.         14 

Next  Teuthras'  son  distain'd  the  sands  with  blood, 
Axylus,°  hospitable,  rich,  and  good : 
In  fair  Arisbe's  walls  (his  native  place) 
D  33 


34  POPE'S   ILIAD 

He  held  his  seat ;  a  friend  to  human  race. 

Fast  by  the  road,  his  ever-open  door 

Oblig'd  the  wealthy,  and  reliev'd  the  poor.  20 

To  stern  Tydides  now  he  falls  a  prey, 

No  friend  to  guard  him  in  the  dreadful  day  ! 

Breathless  the  good  man  fell,  and  by  his  side 

His  faithfuF  servant,  old  Calesius,  died. 

By  great  Euryalus  was  Dresus  slain,  25 

And  next  he  laid  Opheltius  on  the  plain. 
Two  twins  were  near,  bold,  beautiful,  and  young, 
From  a  fair  Naiad  °  and  Bucolion  sprung 
(Laomedon's  white  flocks  Bucolion  fed, 
That  monarch's  first-born  by  a  foreign  bed ;  30 

In  secret  woods  he  won  the  Naiad's  grace. 
And  two  fair  infants  crown'd  his  strong  embrace) : 
Here  dead  they  lay  in  all  their  youthful  charms ; 
The  ruthless  victor  stripp'd  their  shining  arms. 

Astyalus  by  Polypoetes  fell ;  35 

Ulysses'  spear  Pidytes  sent  to  hell  ° ; 
By  Teucer's  °  shaft  brave  Aretaon  bled. 
And  Nestor's°  son  laid  stern  Ablerus  dead ; 
Great  Agamemnon,  leader  of  the  brave. 
The  mortal  wound  of  rich  Elatus  gave,  40 

Who  held  in  Pedasus°  his  proud  abode, 
And  tJll'd  the  banks  where  silver  Satnio  flow'd. 


BOOK    VI  35 

Melanthius  by  Eurypylus  was  slain ; 
And  Phylacus  from  Leitus  flies  in  vain. 

Unbless'd  Adrastus  next  at  mercy  lies  45 

Beneath  tlie  Spartan°  spear,  a  living  prize. 
Scar'd  witli  the  din  and  tumult  of  the  light, 
His  headlong  steeds,  precipitate  in  flight, 
E-ush'd  on  a  tamarisk's  °  strong  trunk,  and  broke 
The  shatter'd  chariot  from  the  crooked  yoke :  50 

Wide  o'er  the  field,  resistless  as  the  wind, 
For  Troy  they  fly,  and  leave  their  lord  behind. 
Prone  on  his  face  he  sinks  beside  the  wheel : 
Atrides  o'er  him  shakes  his  vengeful  steel ; 
The  fallen  chief  in  suppliant  posture  press'd  55 

The  victor's  knees,  and  thus  his  prayer  address'd : 

"  Oh,  spare  my  youth,  and  for  the  life  I  owe 
Large  gifts  of  price  my  father  shall  bestow : 
When  fame  shall  tell  that,  not  in  battle  slain, 
Thy  hollow  ships  his  captive  son  detain,  60 

Eich  heaps  of  brass  shall  in  thy  tent  be  told,° 
And  steel  well-temper 'd,  and  persuasive  gold." 

He  said  :  compassion  touch'd  the  hero's  heart 
He  stood  suspended  with  the  lifted  dart : 
As  pity  pleaded  for  his  vanquish'd  prize,  65 

Stern  Agamemnon  swift  to  vengeance  flies, 
And  furious  thus  :   '•  0  impotent  of  mind ! 


36  POPE'S    ILIAD 

Shall  these,  shall  these  Atrides'  mercy  find  ? 

Well  hast  thou  known  proud  Troy's  perfidious  land, 

And  well  her  natives  merit  at  thy  hand !  70 

Not  one  of  all  the  race,  nor  sex,  nor  age, 

Shall  save  a  Trojan  from  our  boundless  rage: 

Ilion  shall  perish  w^hole,  and  bury  all ; 

Her  babes,  her  infants  at  the  breast,  shall  fall, 

A  dreadful  lesson  of  exampled  fate,  75 

To  warn  the  nations,  and  to  curb  the  great." 

The  monarch  spoke;   the  "words,  wdth  warmth  ad- 
dress'd. 
To  rigid  justice  steel'd  his  brother's  breast. 
Pierce  from  his  knees  the  hapless  chief  he  thrust ; 
The  monarch's  jav'lin  stretch'd°  him  in  the  dust.        80 
Then,  pressing  with  his  foot  his  panting  heart, 
Forth  from  the  slain  he  tugg'd  the  reeking  dart. 
Old  Nestor  saw,  and  rous'd  the  warriors'  rage ! 
"  Thus,  heroes  !  thus  the  vig'rous  combat  wage ! 
No  son  of  Mars  descend,  for  sprvile  gains,  85 

To  touch  the  booty,  while  a  foe  remains. 
Behold  yon  glitt'ring  host,  your  future°  spoil  ! 
First  gain  the  conquest,  then  reward  the  toil." 

And  now  had  Greece  eternal  fame  acquir'd, 
And  frighted  Troy  within  her  walls  retir'd ;  90 

Had  not  sage  Helenus°  her  state  redress'd, 


BOOK    VI  37 

Taught  by  the  gods  that  niov'd  his  sacred  breast : 
Where  Hector  stood,  with  great  ^neas  join'd, 
The  seer  reveaPd  the  counsels  of  his  mind  : 

"Ye  gen'rous  chiefs !  on  whom  th'  immortals  lay  95 
The  cares  and  glories  of  this  doubtful  day, 
On  whom  your  aids,  your  country's  hopes  depend, 
Wise  to  consult,  and  active  to  defend ! 
Here,  at  our  gates,  your  brave  efforts  unite. 
Turn  back  the  routed,  and  forbid  the  flight;  100 

Ere  yet  their  wives'  soft  arms  the  cowards  gain, 
The  sport  and  insult  of  the  hostile  train. 
When  your  commands  have  hearten'd  every  band, 
Ourselves,  here  fix'd,  will  make  the  dang'rous  stand ; 
Press'd  as  we  are,  and  sore  of  former  fight,  105 

These  straits  demand  our  last  remains  of  might. 
Meanwhile,  thou.  Hector,  to  the  town  retire, 
And  teach  our  mother°  what  the  gods  require : 
Direct  the  queen  to  lead  th'  assembled  train 
Of  Troy's  chief  matrons  to  Minerva's  fane ;  no 

Unbar  the  sacred  gates,  and  seek  the  pow'r 
With  offer'd  vows,  in  Ilion's  topmost  tow'r. 
The  largest  mantle  her  rich  wardrobes  hold. 
Most  priz'd  for  art,  and  labour 'd  o'er  with  gold, 
Before  the  goddess'  honour'd  knees  be  spread;  115 

And  twelve  young  heifers  to  her  altars  led. 


38  POPE^S   ILIAD 

If  SO  the  pow'r  aton'd  by  fervent  pray'r, 

Our  wiveSj  our  infants,  and  our  city  spare, 

And  far  avert  Tydides'  wasteful  ire, 

That  mows  whole  troops,  and  makes  all  Troy  retire.  120 

Not  thus  Achilles  taught  our  hosts  to  dread, 

Sprung  tho'  he  was  from  more  than  mortal  bed ; 

Not  thus  resistless  rul'd  the  stream  of  fight. 

In  rage  unbounded,  and  unmatch'd  in  might." 

Hector  obedient  heard;  and,  with  a  bound,  125 

Leap'd  from  his  trembling  chariot  to  the  ground ; 
Thro'  all  his  host,  inspiring  force,  he  flies. 
And  bids  the  thunder  of  the  battle  rise. 
With  rage  recruited  the  bold  Trojans  glow. 
And  turn  the  tide  of  conflict  on  the  foe :  130 

Fierce  in  the  front  he  shakes  two  dazzling  spears ; 
All  Greece  recedes,  and  midst  her  triumph  fears : 
Some  god,  they  thought,  who  rul'd  the  fate  of  wars. 
Shot  down  avenging,  from  the  vault  of  stars. 

Then  thus,  aloud  :  "  Ye  dauntless  Dardans,  hear  !  135 
And  you  whom  distant  nations  send  to  war ; 
Be  mindful  of  the  strength  your  fathers  bore ; 
Be  still  yourselves  and  Hector  asks  no  more. 
One  hour  demands  me  in  the  Trojan  wall. 
To  bid  our  altars  flame,  and  victims  fall :  140 

Nor  shall,  I  trust,  the  matrons'  holy  train 


BOOK    VI  39 

And  rev'rend  elders  seek  the  gods  in  vain." 

This  said,  with  ample  strides  the  hero  pass'd ; 
The  shield's"  large  orb  behind  his  shoulder  cast, 
His  neck  o'ershading,  to  his  ancle  hung ;  145 

And  as  he  march'd  the  brazen  buckler  rung. 

Xow  paus'd  the  battle  (godlike  Hector  gone). 
When  daring  Glaucus°  and  great  Tydeus'  son 
Between  both  armies  met ;  the  chiefs  from  far 
Observ'd  each  other,  and  had  mark'd°  for  war.  150 

Xear  as  they  drew,  Tydides  thus  began : 

'^  What  art  thou,  boldest  of  the  race  of  man  ? 
Our  eyes,  till  now,  that  aspect  ne'er  beheld, 
Where  fame  is  reap'd  amid  th'  embattl'd  field ; 
Yet  far  before  the  troops  thou  "dar'st  appear,  155 

And  meet  a  lance  the  fiercest  heroes  fea^/- 
cTnhappy  they,  and  born  of  luckless  sires/ 
Who  tempt  our  fury  when  Minerva  fires ! 
But  if  from  heav'n,  celestial  thou  descend, 
Know,  with  immortals  we  no  more  contend.  160 

Xot  long  Lycurgus°  view'd  the  golden  light, 
That  daring  man  who  mix'd  with  gods  in  fight ; 
Bacchus,  and  Bacchus'  votaries,  he  drove 
With  brandish'd  steel  from  Nyssa's  sacred  grove ; 
Their  consecrated  spears  lay  scatter'd  round,  165 

With  curling  vines  and  twisted  ivy  bound ; 


40  POPE'S    ILIAD 

While  Bacchus  headlong  sought  the  briny  flood, 
And  Thetis'  arms  receiv'd  the  trembling  god. 
Nor  fail'd  the  crime  th'  immortals'  wrath  to  move 
(Th'  immortals  bless'd  with  endless  ease  above)  ;      170 
Depriv'd  of  sight,  by  their  avenging  doom, 
Cheerless  he  breath'd,  and  wander'd  in  the  gloom : 
Then  sunk  unpitied  to  the  dire  abodes, 
A  wretch  accurs'd,  and  hated  by  the  gods ! 
I  brave  not  heav'n  ;  but  if  the  fruits  of  earth  175 

Sustain  thy  life,  and  human  be  thy  birth, 
Bold  as  thou  art,  too  prodigal  of  breath. 
Approach,  and  enter  the  dark  gates  of  death." 

"What,  or  from  whence  I  am,  or  who  my  sire," 
Replied  the  chief,  "  can  Tydeus'  son  enquire  ?  180 

Like  leaves  on  trees  the  race  of  man  is  found, 
Now  green  in  youth,  now  with'ring  on  the  ground : 
Another  race  the  following  spring  supplies. 
They  fall  successive,  and  successive  rise ; 
So  generations  in  their  course  decay,  185 

So  flourish  these,  when  those  are  pass'd  away. 
But  if  thou  still  persist  to  search  my  birth,  " 

Then  hear  a  tale  that  fills  the  spacious  earth: 

"  A  city  stands  on  Argos'  utmost  bound 
( Argos  the  fair,  for  warlike  steeds  renown'd) ;  190 

iEolian""  Sisyphus,  with  wisdom  bless'd, 


BOOK  ri  41 

In  ancient  time  the  happy  walls  possess'd, 

Then  called  Ephyre°:  Glaucus  was  his  sou; 

Great  Glaucus,  father  of  Bellerophon, 

Who  o'er  the  sous  of  men  in  beauty  shiu'd,  195 

Lov'd  for  that  valour  which  preserves  mankind. 

Then  mighty  Proetus  Argos'  sceptre  sway'd, 

Whose  hard  commands  Bellerophon  obey'd. 

With  direful  jealousy  the  monarch  rag'd, 

And  the  brave  prince  in  num'rous  toils  engag'd.        200 

For  him,  Antea°  burn'd  with  lawless  flame, 

And  strove  to  tempt  him  from  the  paths  of  fame : 

In  vain  she  tempted  the  relentless  youth, 

Endu'd  with  wisdom,  sacred  fear,  and  truth. 

Fir'd  at  his  scorn,  the  queen  to  Proetus  fled,  205 

And  begg'd  revenge  for  her  insulted  bed  : 

Incens'd  he  heard,  resolving  on  his  fate  ; 

But  hospitable^  laws  restrain'd  his  hate : 

To  Lycia  the  devoted  youth  he  sent, 

With  tablets"  seal'd,  that  told  his  dire  intent.  210 

Now,  bless'd  by  ev'ry  pow'r  who  guards  the  good, 

The  chief  arriv'd  at  Xanthus'  silver  flood  : 

There  Lycia's  monarch  paid  him  honours  due : 

Nine  days  he  feasted,  and  nine  bulls  he  slew. 

But°  when  the  tenth  bright  morning  orient  glow'd,  215 

The  faithful  youth  his  monarch's  mandate  show'd : 


42  POPE'S    ILIAD 

The  fatal  tablets,  till  that  instant  seal'd, 

The  deathful  secret  to  the  king  reveal'd. 

Pirst,  dire  Chimsera's"  conquest  was  enjoin'd  ; 

A  mingled  monster,  of  no  mortal  kind ;  220 

Behind,  a  dragon's  fiery  tail  was  spread; 

A  goat's  rough  body  bore  a  lion's  head ; 

Her  pitchy  nostrils  flaky  flames  expire ; 

Her  gaping  throat  emits  infernal  fire. 

"  This  pest  he  slaughter'd  (for  he  read  the  skies,   225 
And  trusted  heav'n's  informing  prodigies") ; 
Then  met  in  arms  the  Solyma3an°  crew 
(Fiercest  of  men),  and  those  the  warrior  slew. 
Next  the  bold  Amazons'°  whole  force  defied; 
■  And  conquer'd  still,  for  heav'n  was  on  his  side.         230 

^'  Nor  ended  here  his  toils  :  his  Lycian  foes, 
At  his  return,  a  treach'rous  ambush  rose. 
With  levell'd  spears  along  the  winding  shore : 
There  fell  they  breathless,  and  return'd  no  more. 

"  At  length  the  monarch  with  repentant  grief        235 
Confess'd  the  gods,  and  god-descended  chief; 
His  daughter  gave,  the  stranger  to  detain, 
With  half  the  honours  of  his  ample  reign. 
The  Lycians  grant  a  chosen  space  of  ground, 
With  woods,  with  vineyards,  and  with  harvests  crown'd. 
There  long  the  chief  his  happy  lot  possess'd,  24J 


BOOK    VI  43 

With  two  brave  soiis°  and  one  fair  daughter^  bless'd 

(Fair  ev'n  in  heav'nly  eyes ;  her  fruitful  love 

Crown'd  with  Sarpedon's  birth  th'  embrace  of  Jove). 

But  when  at  last,  distracted  in  his  mind,  245 

Forsook  by  heav'n.  forsaking  human  kind, 

Wide  o'er  th'  Aleian°  field  he  chose  to  stray, 

A  long,  forlorn,  uncomfortable  way  ! 

Woes  heap'd  on  woes  consum'd  his  wasted  heart; 

His  beauteous  daughter  fell  by  Phoebe's°  dart ;  250 

His  eldest-born°  by  raging  Mars  was  slain 

In  combat  on  the  Solymnean  plain. 

Hippolochus  surviv'd ;  from  him  I  came, 

The  honour'd  author  of  my  birth  and  name; 

By  his  decree  I  sought  the  Trojan  town,  255 

By  his  instructions  learn  to  win  renown ; 

To  stand  the  first  in  w^orth  as  in  command, 

To  add  new  honours  to  my  native  land ; 

Before  my  eyes  my  mighty  sires  to  place. 

And  emulate  the  glories  of  our  race."  260 

He  spoke,  and  transport  fill'd  Tydides'  heart ; 
In  earth  the  gen'rous  warrior  fix'd  his  dart. 
Then  friendly,  thus,  the  Lycian  prince  address'd : 
"  Welcome,  my  brave  hereditary  guest ! 
Thus  ever  let  us  meet  with  kind  embrace,  265 

Nor  stain  the  sacred  friendship  of  our  race. 


44  POPE'S    ILIAD 

Know,  chief,  our  graiidsires  have  been  guests  of  old, 

G^neus  the  strong,  Bellerophon  the  bold  ; 

Our  ancient  seat  his  honour'd  presence  grac'd. 

Where  twenty  days  in  genial  rites  he  pass'd.  270 

The  parting  heroes  mutual  presents  left ; 

A  golden  goblet  was  thy  grandsire's  gift; 

(Eneus  a  belt  of  matchless  work  bestow'd, 

That  rich  with  Tyrian°  dye  refulgent  glow'd 

(This  from  his  pledge  I  learn'd,  which,  safely  stor'd  275 

Among  my  treasures,  still  adorns  my  board  : 

For  Tydeus°  left  me  young,  when  Thebe's  wall 

Beheld  the  sons  of  Greece  untimely  fall). 

Mindful  of  this,  in  friendship  let  us  join ; 

If  heav'n  our  steps  to  foreign  lands  incline,  280 

My  guest  in  Argos  thou,  and  I  in  Lycia  thine. 

Enough  of  Trojans  to  this  lance  shall  yield, 

In  the  full  harvest  of  yon  ample  field; 

Enough  of  Greeks  shall  dye  thy  spear  with  gore ; 

But  thou  and  Diomed  be  foes  no  more.  285 

Now  change  we  arms,  and  prove  to  either  host 

We  guard  the  friendship  of  the  line  we  boast." 

Thus  having  said,  the  gallant  chiefs  alight. 
Their  hands  they  join,  their  mutual  faith  they  plight; 
Brave  Glaucus°  then  each  narrow  thought  resign'd    290 
(Jove  warm'd  his  bosom  and-enlarg'd  his  mind); 


BOOK    VI  45 

For  Diomed's  brass  arms,  of  mean  device, 

For  which  nine  oxen  paid  (a  vulgar  price). 

He  gave  his  own,  of  gold  divinely  w^rought; 

A  hundred  beeves  tlie  shining  purchase  bought.        295 

Meantime  the  guardian  of  the  Trojan  state, 
Great  Hector,  enter'd  at  the  Sc8ean°  gate. 
Beneath  the  beech-trees'°  consecrated  shades. 
The  Trojan  matrons  and  the  Trojan  maids 
Around  him  flock'd,  all  press'd  with  pious  care  300 

For  husbands,  brothers,  sons,  engag'd  in  war. 
He  bids  the  train  in  long  procession  go, 
And  seek  the  gods,  t'  avert  th'  impending  woe. 
And  now  to  Priam's  stately  courts  he  came, 
Kais'd  on  arch'd  columns  of  stupendous  frame ;         305 
O'er  these  a  range  of  marble  structure  runs ; 
The  rich  pavilions  of  his  fifty  sons, 
In  fifty  chambers  lodged  :  and  rooms  of  state 
Oppos'd  to  those,  w^iere  Priam's  daughters  sate : 
Twelve  domes  for  them  and  their  lov'd  spouses  shone, 
Of  equal  beauty,  and  of  polish'd  stone.  311 

Hither  great  Hector  pass'd,  nor  pass'd  unseen 
Of  royal  Hecuba,  his  mother  queen 
(With  her  Laodice,°  whose  beauteous  face 
Surpass'd  the  nymphs  of  Troy's  illustrious  race).      315 
Long  in  a  strict  embrace  she  held  her  son, 


46  POPE'S    ILIAD 

And  press'd  his  hand,  and  tender  thus  begun : 
"  0  Hector  1°  say,  what  great  occasion  calls 
My  son  from  fight,  when  Greece  surrounds  our  walls  ? 
Com'st  thou  to  supplicate  th'  almighty  pow'r,  320 

With  lifted  hands  from  Ilion's  lofty  tow'r? 
Stay,  till  I  bring  the  cup  with  Bacchus  crown'd, 
In  Jove's  high  name,  to  sprinkle  on  the  ground. 
And  pay  due  vows  to  all  the  gods  around. 
Then  with  a  plenteous  draught  refresh  thy  soul,       325 
And  draw  new  spirits  from  the  gen'rous  bowl ; 
Spent  as  thou  art  with  long  laborious  fight, 
The  brave  defender  of  thy  country's  right." 

"Tar"  hence  be  Bacchus'  gifts,"  the  chief  rejoin'd; 
''  Inflaming  w^ine,  pernicious  to  mankind,  330 

Unnerves  the  limbs,  and  dulls  the  noble  mind. 
Let  chiefs  abstain,  and  spare  the  sacred  juice 
To  sprinkle  to  the  gods,  its  better  use. 
By  me  that  holy  office  were  profan'd; 
111  fits  it  me,  with  human  gore  distain'd,  335 

To  the  pure  skies  these  horrid  hands  to  raise. 
Or  offer  heav'n's  great  sire  polluted  praise. 
You,  with  your  matrons,  go,  a  spotless  train ! 
And  burn  rich  odours  in  Minerva's  fane. 
The  largest  mantle  your  full  wardrobes  hold,  340 

Most  priz'd  for  art,  and  labour'd  o'er  with  gold, 


BOOK    VI  47 

Before  the  goddess'  honour'd  knees  be  spread, 
And  twelve  young  heifers  to  her  altar  led. 
So  may  the  pow'r,  aton'd  by  fervent  pray'r, 
Our  wives,  our  infants,  and  our  city  spare,  345 

And  far  avert  Tydides'  wasteful  ire, 
Who  mows  whole  troops,  and  makes  all  Troy  retire. 
Be  this,  O  mother,  your  religious  care; 
I  go  to  rouse  soft  Paris  to  the  war; 
If  yet,  not  lost  to  all  the  sense  of  shame,  350 

The  recreant  warrior  hear  the  voice  of  fame. 
Oh  would  kind  earth  the  hateful  wretch  embrace, 
That  pest  of  Troy,  that  ruin  of  our  race ! 
Deep  to  the  dark  abyss  might  he  descend, 
Troy  yet  should  flourish,  and  my  sorrows  end."         335 
This  heard,  she  gave  command;  and  summon'd  came 
Each  noble  matron  and  illustrious  dame. 
The  Phrygian  queen  to  her  rich  wardrobe  went. 
Where  treasur'd  odours  breath'd  a  costly  scent. 
There  lay  the  vestures  of  no  vulgar  art,  360 

Sidonian  maids  embroider'd  ev'ry  part, 
Whom  from  soft  Sidon°  youthful  Paris  bore, 
With  Helen  touching  on  the  Tyrian  shore. 
Here  as  the  queen  revolv'd  with  careful  eyes 
The  various  textures  and  the  various  dyes,  365 

She  chose  a  veil  that  shone  superior  far, 


48  pope's    ILIAD 

And  glow'd  refulgent  as  the  morning  star. 

Herself  with  this  the  long  procession  leads ; 

The  train  majestically  slow  proceeds. 

Soon  as  to  Ilion's  topmost  tow'r  they  come,  370 

And  awful  reach  the  high  Palladian°  dome, 

Antenor's  consort,  fair  Theano,°  waits 

As  Pallas'  priestess,  and  unbars  the  gates. 

With  hands  uplifted,  and  imploring  eyes, 

They  fill  the  dome  with  supplicating  cries.  375 

The  priestess  then  the  shining  veil  displays, 

Plac'd  on  Minerva's  knees,  and  thus  she  prays: 

"  0  awful  goddess !  ever-dreadful  maid, 
Troy's  strong  defence,  unconquer'd  Pallas,  aid! 
Break  thou  Tydides'  spear,  and  let  him  fall  380 

Prone  on  the  dust  before  the  Trojan  wall. 
So  twelve  young  heifers,  guiltless  of  the  yoke, 
Shall  fill  thy  temple  with  a  grateful  smoke. 
But  thou,  aton'd  by  penitence  and  pray'r. 
Ourselves,  our  infants,  and  our  city  spare! "  385 

So  pray'd  the  priestess  in  her  holy  fane ; 
So  vow'd  the  matrons,  but  they  vow'd  in  vain. 

While  these  appear  before  the  pow'r  with  pray'rs. 
Hector  to  Paris'  lofty  dome  repairs. 
Himself  the  mansion  rais'd,  from  ev'ry  part  390 

Assembling  architects  of  matchless  art. 


BOOK    VI  49 

Near  Priam's  court  and  Hector's  palace  stands 
The  pompous  structure,  and  the  town  commands. 
A  spear  the  hero  bore  of  wond'rous  strength, 
Of  full  ten°  cubits  was  the  lance's  length ;  395 

The  steely  point  with  golden  ringlets"  join'd, 
Before  him  brandish'd,  at  each  motion  shin'd. 
Thus  ent'ring,  in  the  glitt'ring  rooms  he  found 
His  brother-chief,  whose  useless"  arms  lay  round, 
His  eyes  delighting  with  their  splendid  show,  400 

Brightening  the  shield,  and  polishing  the  bow. 
Beside  him  Helen  with  her  virgins  stands, 
Guides  their  rich  labours,  and  instructs"  their  hands. 

Him  thus  unactive,  with  an  ardent  look 
The  prince  beheld,  and  high-resenting  spoke:  405 

^'  Thy  hate  to  Troy  is  this  the  time  to  show 
(0  wretch  ill-fated,  and  thy  country's  foe)  ? 
Paris  and  Greece  against  us  both  conspire. 
Thy  close  resentment,  and  their  vengeful  ire; 
For  thee  great  Ilion's  guardian  heroes  fall,  410 

Till  heaps  of  dead  alone  defend  her  wall ; 
Por  thee  the  soldier  bleeds,  the  matron  mourns, 
And  wasteful  war  in  all  its  fury  burns. 
Ungrateful  man!  deserves  not  this  thy  care, 
Our  troops  to  hearten,  and  our  toils  to  share  ?  415 

Rise,  or  behold  the  conqu'ring  flames  ascend, 


50  POPE'S    ILIAD 

And  all  the  Phrygian  glories  at  an  end." 

"Brother,  'tis  just,"  replied  the  beauteous  youth, 
"  Thy  free  remonstrance  proves  thy  Avorth  and  truth: 
Yet  charge  my  absence  less,  0  gen'rous  chief !  420 

On  hate  to  Troy,  than  conscious  shame  and  grief. 
Here,  hid  from  human  eyes,  thy  brother  sate. 
And  mourn'd  in  secret  his  and  Ilion's  fate. 
'Tis  now  enough :  now  glory  spreads  her  charms, 
And  beauteous  Helen  calls  her  chief  to  arms.  425 

Conque?  ■  to-day  my  happier  sword  may  bless, 
'Tis  man's  to  fight,  but  heav'n's  to  give  success. 
But  while  I  arm,  contain  thy  ardent  mind ; 
Or  go,  and  Paris  shall  not  lag  behind." 

He  said,  nor  answer'd  Priam's  warlike  son ;  430 

When  Helen  thus  with  lowly  grace  begun : 
"  O  gen'rous  brother !  if  the  guilty  dame 
That  caus'd  these  woes  deserve  a  sister's  name ! 
Would  heav'n,  ere  all  these  dreadful  deeds  were  done, 
The  day  that  show'd  me  to  the  golden  sun  435 

Had  seen  my  death !    Why  did  not  whirlwinds  bear 
The  fatal  infant  to  the  fowls  of  air  ? 
Why  sunk  I  not  beneath  the  Avhelming  tide. 
And  midst  the  roarings  of  the  waters  died  ? 
Heav'n  fill'd  up  all  my  ills,  and  I  accurs'd  44° 

Bore  all,  and  Paris  of  those  ills  the  worst. 


BOOK    VI  61 

Helen  at  least  a  braver  spouse  might  claim, 
Warm'd.  with  some  virtue,  some  regard  of  fame ! 
Mow,  tir'd  with  toils,  thy  fainting  limbs  recline, 
With  toils  sustain'd  for  Paris'  sake  and  mine :  445 

The  gods  have  link'd  our  miserable  doom. 
Our  present  woe  and  infamy  to  come : 
Wide  shall  it  spread,  and  last  thro'  ages  long. 
Example  sad !  and  theme  of  future  song." 

The  chief  replied:  "This  time  forbids  to  rest :      450 
The  Trojan  bands,  by  hostile  fury  press'd, 
Demand  their  Hector,  and  his  arm  require ; 
The  combat  urges,  and  my  soul's  on  fire. 
Urge  thou  thy  knight  to  march  where  glory  calls. 
And  timely  join  me,  ere  I  leave  the  walls.  455 

Ere  yet  I  mingle  in  the  direful  fray, 
My  wife,  my  infant,  claim  a  moment's  stay  : 
This  day  (perhaps  the  last  that  sees  me  here) 
Demands  a  parting  word,  a  tender  tear : 
This  day  some  god,  who  hates  our  Trojan  land,         460 
May  vanquish  Hector  by  a  Grecian  hand?'"'^ 

He  said,  and  pass'd  with  sad-presaging  heart, 
To  seek  his  spouse,  his  soul's  far  dearer  part ; 
At  home  he  sought  her,  but  he  sought  in  vain  : 
She,  with  one  maid  of  all  her  menial  train,  465 

Had  thence  retir'd;  and  with  her  second°  joy, 


52  POPE'S    ILIAD 

The  young  Astyanax,°  the  hope  of  Troy, 

Pensive  she  stood  on  I  lion's  tow'ry  height, 

Beheld  the  war,  and  sicken'd  at  the  sight ; 

There  her  sad  eyes  in  vain  her  lord  explore,  470 

Or  weep  the  wounds  her  bleeding  country  bore. 

But  he  who  found  not  whom  his  soul  desir'd, 
Whose  virtue  charm'd  him  as  her  beauty  fir'd, 
Stood  in  the  gates,  and  ask'd  what  way  she  bent 
Her  parting  step ;  if  to  the  fane  she  went,  475 

AVhere  late  the  mourning  matrons  made  resort ; 
Or  sought  her  sisters  in  the  Trojan  court. 
''  Not  to  the  court,"  replied  th'  attendant  train, 
''  Nor,  mix'd  with  matrons,  to  Minerva's  fane : 
To  llion's  steepy  tow'r  she  bent  her  way,  480 

To  mark  the  fortunes  of  the  doubtful  day. 
Troy  fled,  she  heard,  before  the  Grecian  sword : 
She  heard,  and  trembled  for  her  distant  lord; 
Distracted  with  surprise,  she  seem'd  to  fly. 
Fear  on  her  cheek,  and  sorrow  in  her  eye.  485 

The  nurse  attended  with  her  infant  boy, 
The  young  Astyanax,  the  hope  of  Troy." 

Hector,  this  heard,  return'd  without  delay  ; 
Swift  thro'  the  town  he  trod  his  former  way, 
Thro'  streets  of  palaces  and  walks  of  state ;  490 

And^  met  the  mourner  at  the  Scaean  gate. 


BOOK   vr 


53 


With  haste  to  meet  him  sprung  the  joyful  fair, 

His  blameless  wife,  Eetion's  wealthy  heir 

(Cilician  Thebe  great  Eetion  sway'd. 

And  Hippoplacus'  wide-extended  shade)  :  495 

The  nurse  stood  near,  in  whose  embraces  press'd, 

His  only  hope  hung  smiling  at  her  breast, 

Whom  each  soft  charm  and  early  grace  adorn, 

Fair  as  the  new-born  star  that  gilds  the  morn. 

To  this  iQv'd  infant  Hector  gave  the  name  50° 

Scamandrius,  from  Scamander's  honour'd  stream: 

Astyanax  the  Trojans  call'd  the  boy, 

Erom  his  great  father,  the  defence  of  Troy. 

Silent  the  warrior  smil'd,  and,  pleas'd,  resign'd 

To  tender  passions  all  his  mighty  mind :  505 

His  beauteous  princess  cast  a  mournful  look, 

Hung  on  his  hand,  and  then  dejected  spoke ; 

Her  bosom  labour'd  Avith  a  boding  sigh, 

And  the  big  tear  stood  trembling  in  her  eye. 

"  Too  daring  prince  !  ah  whither  dost  thou  run  ?       510 

Ah  too  forgetful  of  thy  wife  and  son ! 

And  think'st  thou  not  how  wretched  we  shall  be, 

A  widow  I,  a  helpless  orphan  he ! 

Eor  sure  such  courage  length  of  life  denies, 

And  thou  must  fall,  thy  virtue's  sacrifice.  5»5 

Greece  in  her  single  heroes  strove  in  vainj 


54  POPE'S    ILIAD 

Now  hosts  oppose  thee,  and  thou  must  be  slain ! 

Oh  grant  me,  gods !  ere  Hector  meets  his  doom, 

All  I  can  ask  of  heav'n,  an  early  tomb ! 

So  shall  my  days  in  one  sad  tenour  run,  520 

And  end  with  sorrows  as  they  first  begun. 

No  parent  now  remains,  my  griefs  to  share. 

No  father's  aid,  no  mother's  tender  care. 

The  fierce  Achilles  wrapt°  our  walls  in  fire, 

Laid  Thebe  waste,  and  slew  my  warlike  sire !  525 

His  fate  compassion  in  the  victor  bred; 

Stern  as  he  was,  he  yet  rever'd  the  dead, 

His  radiant  arms  preserv'd  from  hostile  spoil. 

And  laid  him  decent  on  the  fun'ral  pile ; 

Then  rais'd  a  mountain  where  his  bones  were  burn'd ;  530 

The  mountain  nymphs  the  rural  tomb  adorn'd ; 

Jove's  sylvan  daughters  bade  their  elms  bestow 

A  barren  shade,  and  in  his  honour  grow. 

"  By  the  same  arm  my  sev'n  brave  brothers  fell ; 
In  one  sad  day  beheld  the  gates  of  hell ;  535 

While  the  fat  herds  and  snowy  flocks  they  fed. 
Amid  their  fields  the  hapless  heroes  bled ! 
My  mother  liv'd  to  bear  the  victor's  bands, 
The  queen  of  Hippoplacia's°  sylvan  lands : 
Redeem'd  too  late,  she  scarce  beheld  again  540 

Her  pleasing  empire  and  her  native  plain. 


BOOK    VI  55 

When,  ah !  oppress'd  by  life-consuming  woe, 
She  fell  a  victim  to  Diana's  bow. 

"  Yet  while  my  Hector  still  survives,  I  see 
My  father,  mother,  brethren,  all,  in  thee.  545 

Alas !  my  parents,  brothers,  kindred,  all. 
Once  more  will  perish  if  my  Hector  fall. 
Thy  wife,  thy  infant,  in  thy  danger  share ; 
Oh  prove  a  husband's  and  a  father's  care ! 
That  quarter  most  the  skilful  Greeks  annoy,  55° 

Where  yon  wild  fig-trees  join  the  wall  of  Troy  : 
Thou,  from  this  tow'r  defend  th'  important  post; 
There  Agamemnon  points  his  dreadful  host, 
That  pass  Tydides,  Ajax,  strive  to  gain. 
And  there  the  vengeful  Spartan  fires  his  train.  555 

Thrice  our  bold  foes  the  fierce  attack  have  giv'n, 
Or  led  by  hojJes,  or  dictated  from  heav'n. 
Let  others  in  the  field  their  arms  employ, 
But  stay  my  Hector  here,  and  guard  his  Troy." 

The  chief  replied:  "  That  post  shall  be  my  care,  560 
Kor  that  alone,  but  all  the  works  of  war. 
How  would  the  sons  of  Troy,  in  arms  renown'd. 
And  Troy's  proud  dames,  whose  garments  sweep  the 

ground, 
Attaint  the  lustre  of  my  former  name, 
Should  Hector  basely  quit  the  field  of  fame  ?  565 


5Q  ■  POPE'S    ILIAD 

My  early  youth  was  bred  to  martial  pains, 
My  soul  impels  me  to  th'  embattl'd  plains : 
Let  me  be  foremost  to  defend  the  throne, 
And  guard  my  father's  glories,  and  my  own. 
Yet  come  it  will,  the  day  decreed  by  fates  570 

(How  my  heart  trembles  while  my  tongue  relates !) ; 
The  day  when  thou,  imperial  Troy !  must  bend. 
And  see  thy  warriors  fall,  thy  glories  end. 
And  yet  no  dire  presage  so  wounds  my  mind, 
My  mother's  death,  the  ruin  of  my  kind,  575 

Not  Priam's  hoary  hairs  defil'd  with  gore, 
Not  all  my  brothers  gasping  on  the  shore ; 
As  thine,  Andromache !  thy  griefs  I  dread ; 
I  see  thee  trembling,  weeping,  captive  led ! 
In  Argive  looms  our  battles  to  design,  58° 

And  woes  of  which  so  large  a  part  was  'thine  ! 
To  bear  the  victor's  hard  commands,  or  bring 
The  weight  of  waters  from  Hyperia's°  spring. 
There,  while  you  groan  beneath  the  load  of  life, 
They  cry,  '  Behold  the  mighty  Hector's  wife ! '  585 

.  Some  haughty  Greek,  who  lives  thy  tears  to  see, 
Embitters  all  thy  woes  by  naming  me. 
The  thoughts  of  glory  past,  and  present  shame, 
A  thousand  griefs,  shall  waken  at  the  name ! 
May  I  lie  cold  before  that  dreadful  day,  59° 


BOOK    VI  57 

Press'd  with  a  load  of  monumental  clay  ! 
Thy  Hector,  wrapp'd  in  everlasting  sleep, 
Shall  neither  hear  thee  sigh,  nor  see  thee  weep." 

Thus  having  spoke,  th'  illustrious  chief  of  Troy 
Stretch'd  his  fond  arms  to  clasp  the  lovely  boy.        595 
The  babe  clung  crying  to  his  nurse's  breast, 
Scar'd  at  the  dazzling  helm,  and  nodding  crest. 
With  secret  pleasure  each  fond  parent  smil'd, 
And  Hector  hasted  to  relieve  his  child ; 
The  glitt'ring  terrors  from  his  brows  unbound,  600 

And  placed  the  beaming  helmet  on  the  ground. 
Then  kiss'd  the  child,  and,  lifting  high  in  air, 
Thus  to  the  gods  preferr'd  a  father's  pray'r: 

'•  0  thou  whose  glory  fills  th'  ethereal  throne, 
And  all  ye  deathless  powers  !  protect  my  son !  605 

Grant  him,  like  me,  to  purchase  just  renown, 
To  guard  the  Trojans,  to  defend  the  crown. 
Against  his  country's  foes  the  war  to  wage, 
And  rise  the  Hector  of  the  future  age ! 
So  when,  triumi)hant  from  successful  toils,  6ia 

Of  heroes  slain  he  bears  the  reeking  spoils, 
Whole  hosts  may  hail  him  with  deserv'd  acclaim. 
And  say,  '  This  chief  transcends  his  father's  fame  ' : 
While  i^leas'd,  amidst  the  gen'ral  shouts  of  Troy, 
His  mother's  conscious  heart  o'erflows  with  joy."      615 


58  POPE'S    ILIAD 

He  spoke,  and  fondly  gazing  on  her  charms, 
Eestor'd  the  pleasing  burthen  to  her  arms ; 
Soft  on  her  fragrant  breast  the  babe  she  laid, 
Hush'd  to  repose,  and  with  a  smile  survey 'd. 
The  troubled  pleasure  soon  chastis'd  by  fear,  620 

She  mingled  with  the  smile  a  tender  tear. 
The  soften'd  chief  with  kind  compassion  view'd. 
And  dried  the  falling  drops,  and  thus  pursu'd : 

"  Andromache !  my  soul's  far  better  part, 
W]iy  with  untimely  sorrows  heaves  thy  heart  ?         625 
No  hostile  hand  can  antedate  my  doom, 
Till  fate  condemns  me  to  the  silent  tomb. 
!Fix'd  is  the  term  to  all  the  race  of  earth. 
And  such  the  hard  condition  of  our  birth. 
Xo  force  can  then  resist,  no  flight  can  save ;  630 

All  sink  alike,  the  fearful  and  the  brave. 
No  more  —  but  hasten  to  thy  tasks  at  home. 
There  guide  the  spindle,  and  direct  the  loom  : 
]\Ie  glory  summons  to  the  martial  scene  ; 
The  field  of  combat  is  the  sphere  for  men.  635 

Where  heroes  war,  the  foremost  place  I  claim, 
The  first  in  danger  as  the  first  in  fame." 

Thus  having  said,  the  glorious  chief  resumes 
His  tow'ring  helmet,  black  with  shading  plumes. 
His  j)rincess  parts  with  a  prophetic  sigh,  640 


BOOK    VI  59 

Unwilling  parts,  and  oft  reverts  her  eye, 

That  stream'd  at  ev'ry  look  :  then,  moving  slow, 

Sought  her  own  palace,  and  indulg'd  her  woe. 

There,  while  her  tears  deplor'd  the  godlike  man. 

Thro'  all  her  train  the  soft  infection  ran ;  645 

The  pious  maids  their  mingled  sorrows  shed, 

And  mourn  the  living  Hector  as  the  dead. 

But  now,  no  longer  deaf  to  honour's  call, 
Forth  issues  Paris  from  the  palace  wall. 
In  brazen  arms  that  cast  a  gleamy  ray,  650 

Swift  thro'  the  town  the  warrior  bends  his  way. 
The  wanton  courser  thus,  with  reins  unbound. 
Breaks  from  his  stall,  and  beats  the  trembling  ground ; 
Pamper'd  and  proud  he  seeks  the  wonted  tides. 
And  laves,  in  height  of  blood,  his  shining  sides  :       655 
His  head  now  freed  he  tosses  to  the  skies ; 
His  mane  dishevell'd  o'er  his  shoulders  flies; 
He  snuffs  the  females  in  the  distant  plain. 
And  springs,  exulting,  to  his  fields  again. 
With  equal  triumph,  sprightly,  bold,  and  gay,  660 

In  arms  refulgent  as  the  god  of  day, 
The  son  of  Priam,  glorying  in  his  might, 
Rush'd  forth  with  Hector  to  the  fields  of  fight. 
And  now  the  warriors  passing  on  the  way. 
The  graceful  Paris  first  excus'd  his  stay.  665 


60  POPE'S    ILIAD 

To  whom  the  noble  Hector  thus  replied : 

"  0  chief  !  in  blood,  and  now  in  arms,  allied  ! 

Thy  pow'r  in  war  with  justice  none  contest ; 

Known  is  thy  courage,  and  thy  strength  confess'd. 

What  pity,  sloth  should  seize  a  soul  so  brave,  670 

Or  godlike  Paris  live  a  woman's  slave ! 

My  heart  weeps  blood  at  what  the  Trojans  say, 

And  hopes  thy  deed  shall  wipe  the  stain  away. 

Haste  then,  in  all  their  glorious  labours  share  ; 

For  much  they  suffer,  for  thy  sake,  in  war.  675 

These"  ills  shall  cease,  whene'er  by  Jove's  decree 

We  crown  the  bowl  to  Heav'n  and  Liberty : 

While  the  proud  foe  his  frustrate  triumphs  mourns, 

And  Greece  indignant  thro'  her  seas  returns." 


BOOK   XXII 

THE   DEATH   OF   HECTOR 

Thus  to  their  bulwarks,  smit  with  panic  fear, 
The  herded  Ilians  rush  like  driven  deer ; 
There  safe,  they  wipe  the  briny  drops  away, 
And  drown  in  bowls  the  labours  of  the  day. 
Close  to  the  walls,  advancing  o'er  the  fields,  5 

Beneath  one  roof  °  of  well-compacted  shields, 
IVIarch,  bending  on,  the  Greeks'  embodied  pow'rs, 
rar-stretching  in  the  shade  of  Trojan  tow'rs. 
Great  Hector  singly  stay'd  ;  chain'd  down  by  fate. 
There  fix'd  he  stood  before  the  Scaean  gate ;  10 

Still  his  bold  arms  determin'd  to  employ, 
The  guardian  still  of  long-defended  Troy. 

Apollo  now  to  tir'd  Achilles  turns 
(The  pow'r  confess'd  in  all  his  glory  burns), 
"  And  what,"  he  cries,  "  has  Peleus'  son  in  view,        15 
With  mortal  speed  a  godhead  to  pursue  ? 
For  not  to  thee  to  know  the  gods  is  giv'n, 
Unskill'd  to  trace  the  latent  marks  of  heav'n. 

61 


62  POPE^S    ILIAD 

What  boots  thee  now  that  Troy  forsook  the  plain  ? 
Vain  thy  past  labour,  and  thy  present  vain :  20 

Safe  in  their  walls  are  now  her  troops  bestow'd, 
While  here  thy  frantic  rage  attacks  a  god." 

The  chief  incens'd :  "  Too  partial  god  of  day  ! 
To  check  my  conquests  in  the  middle  way : 
How  few  in  Ilion  else  had  refuge  found !  25 

What  gasping  numbers  now  had  bit  the  ground! 
Thou  robb'st  me  of  a  glory  justly  mine, 
Pow'rf ul  of  godhead,  and  of  fraud  divine : 
Mean  fame,  alas  !  for  one  of  heav'nly  strain. 
To  cheat  a  mortal  who  repines°  in  vain."  30 

Then  to  the  city,  terrible  and  strong, 
With  high  and  haughty  steps  he  tower'd  along : 
So  the  proud  courser,  victor  of  the  prize, 
To  the  near  goal  with  double  ardour  flies. 
Him,  as  he  blazing  shot  across  the  field,  35 

The  careful  eyes  of  Priam  first  beheld. 
Not  half  so  dreadful  rises  to  the  sight, 
Thro'  the  thick  gloom  of  some  tempestuous  night, 
Orion's°  dog  (the  year  when  autumn  weighs). 
And  o'er  the  feebler  stars  exerts  his  rays ;  40 

Terrific  glory  !  for  his  burning  breath 
Taints  the  red  air  with  fevers,  plagues,  and  death. 
So  flam'd  his  fiery  mail.     Then°  wept  the  sage : 


BOOK   XXII  63 

He  strikes  his  rev'rend  head,  now  white  with  age ; 

He  lifts  his  wither'd  arms ;  obtests°  the  skies  ;  45 

He  calls  his  much-lov'd  son  with  feeble  cries : 

The  son,  resolv'd  Achilles'  force  to  dare, 

Full  at  the  Scsean  gate  expects  the  war : 

While  the  sad  father  on  the  rampart  stands, 

And  thus  adjures  him  with  extended  hands  :  50 

"Ah  stay  not,  stay  not !  guardless  and  alone 
Hector,  my  lov'd,  my  dearest,  bravest  son  ! 
^rethinks  already  I  behold  thee  slain. 
And  stretch'd  beneath  that  fury  of  the  plain. 
Implacable  Achilles  !  might'st  thou  be  55 

To  all  the  gods  no  dearer  than  to  me ! 
Thee  vultures  wild  should  scatter  round  the  shore. 
And  bloody  dogs  grow  fiercer  from  thy  gore  ! 
How  many  valiant  sons  I  late  enjoy 'd,  ;  f 

Valiant  in  vain  !  by  thy  curs'd  arm  destroy'd .  60 

Or,  worse  than  slaughter'd,  sold  in  distant  isles 
To  shameful  bondage  and  unworthy  toils. 
Two,  while  I  speak,  my  eyes  in  vain  explore. 
Two  from  one  mother°  sprung,  my  Polyclore 
And  lov'd  Lycaon ;  now  perhaps  no  more !  65 

Oh  I  if  in  yonder  hostile  camp  they  live. 
What  heaps  of  gold,  what  treasures  would  I  give 
(Their  grandsire's  wealth,  by  right  of  birth  their  o^rn, 


64  POPE^S   ILIAD 

Coiisign'd  his  daughter  with  Lelegia's°  throne) : 

But  if  (which  heav'n  forbid)  already  lost,  70 

All  pale  they  wander  on  the  Stygian°  coast, 

What  sorrows  then  must  their  sad  mother  know, 

What  anguish  I !  unutterable  woe  ! 

Yet  less  that  anguish,  less  to  her,  tg^^me, 

Less  to  all  Troy,  if  not  depriv'd  of  thee.  75 

Yet  shun  Achilles !  enter  yet  the  wall ; 

And  spare  thyself,  thy  father,  spare  us  all ! 

Save  thy  dear  life :  or  if  a  soul  so  brave 

Neglect  that  thought,  thy  dearer  glory  save. 

Pity,  while  yet  I  live,  these  silver  hairs  ;     -  80 

While  yet  thy  father  feels  the  woes  he  bears. 

Yet  curs'd  Vvdth  sense !  a  wretch,  whom  in  his  rage 

(All  trembling  on  the  verge  of  helpless  age) 

Great  Jove  has  plac'd,  sad  spectacle  of  pain ! 

The  bitter  dregs  of  fortune's  cup  to  drain :  85 

To  fill  with  scenes  of  death  his  closing  eyes, 

And  number  all  his  days  by  miseries ! 

My  heroes  slain,  my  bridal  bed  o'erturn'd. 

My  daughters  ravish'd,  and  my  city  burn'd. 

My  bleeding  infants  dash'd  against  the  floor ;  90 

These  I  have  yet  to  see,  perhaps  yet  more  ! 

Perhaps  ev'n  I,  reserv'd  by  angry  fate 

The  last  sad  relic  of  my  ruin'd  state 


BOOK   XXII  65 

(Dire  pomp  of  sov'reign  wretchedness !),  must  fall 

And  stain  the  pavement  of  my  regal  hall ;  95 

Where  famish'd  dogs,  late  guardians  of  my  door, 

Shall  lick  their  mangled  master's  spatter'd  gore. 

Yet  for  my  sons  I  thank  ye,  gods!  'twas  well: 

Well  that  they  perish'd,  for  in  fight  they  fell. 

Who  dies  in  youth  and  vigour,  dies  the  best,  loo 

Struck  thro'  with  wounds,  all  honest  on  the  breast. 

But  when  the  fates,  in  fulness  of  their  ras'e. 

Spurn  the  hoar  head  of  unresisting  age, 

In  dust  the  rev'rend  lineaments  deform, 

And  pour  to  dogs  the  life-blood  scarceh;  warm ;         105 

This,  this  is  misery !  the  last,  the  worst. 

That  man  can  feel :  man,  fated  to  be  curs'd  !  " 

He  said,  and  acting  what  no  words  could  say, 
Eent  from  his  head  the  silver  locks  away. 
AYith  him  the  mournful  mother  bears  a  part:  no 

Yet  all  their  sorrows  turn  not  Hector's  heart : 
The  zone°  unbrac'd,  her  bosom  she  display'd ; 
And  thus,  fast-falling  the  salt  tears,  she  said : 

'•  Have  mercy  on  me,  0  my  son !  revere 
The  words  of  age  ;  attend  a  parent's  pray'r !  115 

If  ever  thee  in  these  fond  arms  I  press'd, 
Or  still'd  thy  infant  clamours  at  this  breast ; 
Ah !  do  not  thus  our  helpless  years  forego. 


66  POPE'S    ILIAD 

But,  by  our  walls  secur'd,  repel  the  foe. 

Against  his  rage  if  singly  thou  proceed,  120 

Shouldst  thou  (but   heav'n  avert  it!),  shouldst  thou 

bleed. 
Nor  must  thy  corse  lie  honour'd  on  the  bier, 
Nor  spouse,  nor  mother,  grace  thee  with  a  tear; 
Far  from  our  pious  rites,  those  dear  remains 
Must  feast  the  vultures  on  the  naked  plains."  125 

So  they,  while  down  their  cheeks  the  torrents  roll : 
But  fix'd  remains  the  purpose  of  his  soul ; 
Kesolv'd  he  stands,  and  with  a  fiery  glance 
Expects  the  l^ero's  terrible  advance. 
So,  rolPd  up  in  his  den,  the  swelling  snake  130 

Beholds  the  traveller  approach  the  brake ; 
When,  fed  with  noxious  herbs,  his  turgid  veins 
Have  gather'd  half  the  poisons°  of  the  plains ; 
He  burns,  he  stiffens  with  collected  ire. 
And  his  red  eyeballs  glare  with  living  fire.  135 

Beneath  a  turret,  on  his  shield  reclin'd, 
He  stood,  and  question'd  thus  his  mighty  mind : 

"  Where°  lies  my  way  ?  To  enter  in  the  wall  ? 
Honour  and  shame  tli'  ungen'rous  thought  recall: 
ShalF  proud  Polydamas  before  the  gate  140 

Proclaim  his  counsels  are  obey'd  too  late. 
Which  timely  follow'd  but  the  former  night. 


BOOK  XXII  67 

What  numbers  had  been  sav'd  by  Hector's  flight  ? 

That  wise  advice  rejected  with  disdain, 

I  feel  my  folly  in  my  people  slain.  145 

Rethinks  my  suff'ring  country's  voice  I  hear, 

But  most,  her  worthless  sons  insult  my  ear, 

On  my  rash  courage  charge  the  chance  of  war, 

And  blame  those  virtues  which  they  cannot  share. 

Xo  —  if  I  e'er  return,  return  I  must  150 

Glorious,  my  country's  terror  laid  in  dust : 

Or  if  I  perish,  let  her  see  me  fall 

In  field  at  least,  and  fighting  for  her  wall. 

And  yet  suppose  these  measures  I  forego. 

Approach  unarm 'd,  and  parley  with  the  foe,  155 

The  warrior-shield,  the  helm,  and  lance  lay  down. 

And  treat  on  terms°  of  peace  to  save  the  town : 

The  wife°  withheld,  the  treasure  ill-detain'd 

(Cause  of  the  war,  and  grievance  of  the  land), 

With  honourable  justice  to  restore  ;  160 

And  add  half  Ilion's  yet  remaining  store, 

Which  Troy  shall,  sworn,  produce  ;  that  iujur'd  Greece 

:May  share  our  wealth,  and  leave  our  walls  in  peace. 

But  why  this  thought  ?     TJnarm'd  if  I  should  go, 

What  hope  of  mercy  from  this  vengeful  foe,  165 

But  woman-like  to  fall,  and  fall  without  a  blow? 

We  greet  not  here  as  man  conversing  man. 


68  POPE^S   ILIAD 

Met  at  ail  oak  or  journeying  o'er  a  plain; 

Xo  season  now  for  calm,  familiar  talk, 

Like  youths  and  maidens  in  an  ev'niiig  walk :  17a 

War  is  our  business,  but  to  whom  is  giv'n 

To  die  or  triumph,  that  determine  heav'ii  I " 

Thus  pond'ring,  like  a  god  the  Greek  drew  nigh : 
His  dreadful  plumage  nodded  from  on  high ; 
The  Pelian°  jav'lin,  in  his  better  hand,  175 

Shot  trembling  rays  that  glitter'd  o'er  the  land ; 
And  on  his  breast  the  beamy  splendours  shone 
Like  Jove's  own  light'ning,  or  the  rising  sun. 
As  Hector  sees,  unusual  terrors  rise. 
Struck  by  some  god,  he  fears,  recedes,"  and  flies :      180 
He  leaves  the  gates,  he  leaves  the  walls  behind  ; 
Achilles  follows  like  the  winged  wind. 
Thus  at  the  panting  dove  the  falcon  flies 
(The  swiftest  racer  of  the  liquid  skies) ; 
Just  when  he  holds,  or  thinks  he  holds,  his  prey,     185 
Obliquely  wheeling  thro'  th'  aerial  way, 
AVith  open  beak  and  shrilling  cries  he  springs, 
And  aims  his  claws,  and  shoots  upon  his  wings : 
No  less  fore-riglit°  the  rapid  chase  they  held, 
One  urg'd  by  fury,  one  by  fear  impell'd  ;  190 

Now  circling  round  the  walls  their  course  maintain. 
Where  the  high  watch-tow'r  overlooks  the  plain; 


BOOK  XXII  69 

Kow  where  the  fig-trees°  spread  their  umbrage  broad 

(A  wider  compass),  smoke  along  the  road. 

Next  by  Scamander's  double  source  they  bound,        195 

Where  two  f am'd  fountains  burst  the  parted  ground : 

This  hot  thro'  scorching  clefts  is  seen  to  rise, 

With  exhalations  steaming  to  the  skies; 

That  the  green  banks  in  summer's  heat  o'erflows. 

Like  crystal  clear,  and  cold  as  winter  snows.  200 

Each  gushing  fount  a  marble°  cistern  fills, 

Whose  polish'd  bed  receives  the  falling  rills ; 

Where  Trojan  dames  (ere  yet  alarm'd  by  Greece) 

Wash'd  their  fair  garments  in  the  days  of  peace. 

By  these  they  pass'd,  one  chasing,  one  in  flight         205 

(The  mighty  fled,  pursu'd  by  stronger  might) ; 

Swift  was  the  course ;  no  vulgar  prize  they  pla}^, 

No  vulgar  victim  must  reward  the  day 

(Such  as  in  races  crown  the  speedy  strife) : 

The  prize  contended  was  great  Hector's  life.  210 

As  when  some  hero's  fun'rals  are  decreed,    -^ 
In  grateful  honour  of  the  mighty  dead ; 
Where  high  rewards  the  vig'rous  youth  inflame 
(Some  golden  tripod,  or  some  lovely  dame). 
The  panting  coursers  swiftly  turn  the  goal,  215 

And  with  them  turns  the  rais'd  spectator's  soul : 
Thus  three  times  Tound  the  Trojan  wall  they  fly; 


70  POPE'S    ILIAD 

The  gazing  gods  lean  forward  from  the  sky : 

To  whom,  while  eager  on  the  chase  they  look, 

The  sire  of  mortals  and  immortals  spoke :  22a 

"  Unworthy  sight !  the  man  belov'd  of  heav'n, 
Behold,  inglorious  round  yon  city  driv'n  ! 
My  heart  partakes  the  gen'rous  Hector's  pain ; 
Hector,  whose  zeal  whole  hecatombs  has  slain, 
Whose  grateful  fumes  the  gods  receiv'd  with  joy,     225 
From  Ida's  summits  and  the  tow'rs  of  Troy : 
Now  see  him  flying !  to  his  fears  resign'd, 
And  Fate  and  fierce  Achilles  close  behind. 
Consult,  ye  pow'rs  ('tis  worthy  your  debate), 
Whether  to  snatch  him  from  impending  fate,  230 

Or  let  him  bear,  by  stern  Pelides  slain 
(Good  as  he  is),  the  lot  impos'd  on  man  ?  " 

Then   Pallas   thus :     "  Shall   he   whose    vengeance 
forms 
The  forky  bolt,  and  blackens  heav'n  with  storms, 
Shall  he  prolong  one  Trojan's  forfeit  breath,  235 

A  man,  a  mortal,  pre-ordain'd  to  death  ? 
And  will  no  murmurs  fill  the  courts  above  ? 
No  gods  indignant  blame  their  partial  Jove  ?  " 

"  Go  then,"  return'd  the  sire,  "  without  delay  ; 
Exert  thy  will :  I  give  the  fates  their  way."  240 

Swift  at  the  mandate  pleas'd  Tritonia°  flies, 


BOOK   XXII  71 

Aud  stoops  impetuous  from  the  cleaving  skies. 

As  thro'  the  forest,  o'er  the  vale  and  lawn, 
The  well-breath'd  beagle  drives  the  flying  fawn ; 
In  vain  he  tries  the  covert  of  the  brakes,  245 

Or  deep  beneath  the  trembling  thicket  shakes  : 
Sure  of  the  vapour°  in  the  tainted  dews, 
The  certain  hound  his  various  maze  pursues : 
Thus  step  by  step,  where'er  the  Trojan  wheel'd, 
There  swift  Achilles  compass'd  round  the  field.        250 
Oft  as  to  reach  the  Dardan°  gates  he  bends, 
And  hopes  th'  assistance  of  his  pitying  friends 
(Whose  show'ring  arrows,  as  he  cours'd  below, 
From  the  high  turrets  might  oppress  the  foe), 
So  oft  Achilles  turns  him  to  the  plain :  255 

He  eyes  the  city,  but  he  eyes  in  vain. 
\   As°  men  in  slumbers  seem  with  speedy  pace 
One  to  pursue,  and  one  to  lead  the  chase, 
Their  sinking  limbs  the  fancied  course  forsake, 
iS'or  this  can  fly,  nor  that  can  overtake  :  260 

No  less  the  lab'ring  heroes  pant  and  strain ; 
AVhile  that  but  flies,  and  this  pursues,  in  vain. 
What  god,  O  Muse  I  assisted  Hector's  force, 
With  fate  itself  so  long  to  hold  the  course^ 
Phoebus  it  was  :  who,  in  his  latest  hour,      ""  265 

Eudu'd  his  knees  with  strength,  his  nerves  with  pow'r. 


72  POPE'S    ILIAD 

And  great  Achilles,  lest  some  Greek's  advance 
Should  snatch  the  glory  from  his  lifted  lance, 
Sign'd  to  the  troops,  to  yield  his  foe  the  way, 
And  leave  untouch'd  the  honours  of  the  day.  270 

Jove  lifts  the  golden  balances,  that  show 
The  fates  of  mortal  men  and  things  below : 
Here  each  contending  hero's  lot  he  tries, 
And  weighs,  with  equal  hand,  their  destinies. 
Low  sinks  the  scale  surcharg'd  with  Hector's  fate ;  275 
Heavy  with   death   it   sinks,  and  helF  receives   the 
weight. 

Then  Phoebus  left  him.     Pierce  Minerva  flies 
To  stern  Pelides,  and,  triumphing,  cries : 
"  0  lov'd  of  Jove !  this  day  our  labours  cease, 
And  conquest  blazes  with  full  beams  on  Greece.       2S0 
Great  Hector  falls ;  that  Hector  fam'd  so  far, 
Drunk  with  renown,  insatiable  of  war. 
Falls  by  thy  hand  and  mine  !  nor  force  nor  flight 
Shall  more  avail  him,  nor  his  god  of  light. 
See,  where  in  vain  he  supplicates  above,  285 

Roll'd  at  the  feet  of  unrelenting  Jove  ! 
Rest  here  :  myself  will  lead  the  Trojan  on, 
And  urge  to  meet  the  fate  he  cannot  shun." 

Her  voice  divine  the  chief  with  joyful  mind 
Obey'd;  and  rested,  on  his  lance  reclin'd;  290 


BOOK   XXII  73 

While  like  I)eipliobus°  the  martial  dame 
(Her  face,  her  gesture,  and  her  arms,  the  same), 
In  show°  an  aid,  by  hapless  Hector's  side 
Approach'd,°  and  greets  him  thus  with  voice  belied : 

''Too  long,  0  Hector!  have  I  borne  the  sight '*^'*'^ 
Of  this  distress,  and  sorrow'd  in  thy  flight : 
It  fits  us  now  a  noble  stand  to  make. 
And  here,  as  brothers,  equal  fates  partake." 

Then  he :  ''0  prince !  allied  in  blood  and  fame, 
Dearer  than  all  that  own  a  brother's  name ;  300 

Of  all  that  Hecuba  to  Priam  bore, 
Long  tried,   long   lov'd;    much   lov'd,   but   honour'd 

more ! 
Since  you  of  all  our  num'rous  race  alone 
Defend  my  life,  regardless  of  your  own." 

Again  the  goddess  :  ''  Much  my  father's  pray'r,     305 
And  much  my  mother's,  press'd  me  to  forbear : 
My  friends  embrac'd  my  knees,  adjur'd  my  stay, 
But  stronger  love  impell'd,  and  I  obey. 
Come  then,  the  glorious  conflict  let  us  try, 
Let  the  steel  sparkle  and  the  jav'lin  fly ;  310 

Or  let  us  stretch  Achilles  on  the  field, 
Or  to  his  arm  our  bloody  trophies  yield." 

Fraudf ul  she  said ;  then  swiftly  march'd  before ; 
The  Dardan  hero  shuns  his  foe  no  more. 


74  POPE^S    ILIAD 

Sternly  they  met.     The  silence  Hector  broke;  315 

His  dreadful  plumage  nodded  as  he  spoke : 

"  Enough,  0  son  of  Pel  ens  !     Troy  has  view'd 
Her  walls  thrice  circled,  and  her  chief  pursu'd. 
But  now  some  god  within  me  bids  me  try 
Thine  or  my  fate :  I  kill  thee  or  I  die.  320 

Yet  on  the  verge  of  battle  let  us  stay, 
And  for  a  moment's  space  suspend  the  day  : 
Let  heav'n's  high  pow'rs  be  call'd  to  arbitrate 
The  just  conditions  of  this  stern  debate 
(Eternal  witnesses  of  all  below,  325 

And  faithful  guardians  of  the  treasur'd  vow  !)  : 
To  them  I  swear :  if,  victor  in  the  strife, 
Jove  by  these  hands  shall  shed  thy  noble  life, 
No  vile  dishonour  shall  thy  corse  pursue ; 
Stripp'd  of  its  arms  alone  (the  conqu'ror's  due),        330 
The  rest  to  Greece  uninjur'd  I'll  restore : 
Now  plight  thy  mutual  oath,  I  ask  no  more." 

"  Talk  not  of  oaths,"  the  dreadful  chief  replies. 
While  anger  flash'd  from  his  disdainful  eyes, 
"  Detested  as  thou  art,  and  ought  to  be,  335 

Nor  oath  nor  pact  Achilles  plights  with  thee ; 
Such  pacts  as  lambs  and  rabid  wolves  combine. 
Such  leagues  as  men  and  furious  lions  join, 
To  such  I  call  the  gods !  one  constant  state 


BOOK    XXII  75 

Of  lasting  rancour  and  eternal  liate  :  340 

No  thought  but  rage,  and  never-ceasing  strife, 

Till  death  extinguish  rage,  and  thought  and  life. 

Eouse  then  thy  forces  this  important  hour, 

Collect  thy  soul,  and  call  forth  all  thy  pow'r. 

Xo  farther  subterfuge,  no  farther  chance ;  345 

'Tis  Pallas,  Pallas  gives  thee  to  my  lance. 

Each  Grecian  ghost  by  thee  depriv'd  of  breath, 

Now  hovers  round,  and  calls°  thee  to  thy  death." 

He  spoke,  and  launch'd  his  jav'lin  at  the  foe ; 
But  Hector  shunn'd  the  meditated  blow :  350 

He  stoop'd,  while  o'er  his  head  the  flying  spear 
Sung  innocent,  and  spent  its  force  in  air. 
Minerva  watch'd  it  falling  on  the  land, 
Then  drew,  and  gave  to  great  Achilles'  hand, 
Unseen  of  Hector,  who,  elate  with  joy,  355 

Now  shakes  his  lance,  and  braves  the  dread  of  Troy : 

"The  life  you  boasted  to  that  jav'lin  giv'n. 
Prince  !  you  have  miss'd.    My  fate  depends  on  heav'n. 
To  thee  (presumptuous  as  thou  art)  unknown 
Or  Avhat  must  prove  my  fortune  or  thy  own.  360 

Boasting  is  but  an  art,  our  fears  to  blind. 
And  with  false  terrors  sink  another's  mind. 
But  know,  whatever  fate  I  am  to  try, 
By  no  dishonest  wound  shall  Hector  die  j 


76  POPE'S    ILIAD 

I  shall  not  fall  a  fugitive  at  least,  365 

My  soul  shall  bravely  issue  from  my  breast.  ' 
But  first;  try  thou  my  arm ;  and  may  this  dart 
End  all  my  country's  woes,  deep  buried  in  thy  heart ! " 

The  weapon  flew,  its  course  unerring  held ; 
Unerring,  but  the  heav'nly  shield  repell'd  370 

The  mortal  dart ;  resulting  with  a  bound 
From  off  the  ringing  orb,  it  struck  the  ground. 
Hector  beheld  his  jav'lin  fall  in  vain, 
Nor  other  lance  nor  other  hope  remain ; 
He  calls  Deiphobus,  demands  a  spear,  375 

In  vain,  for  no  Deiphobus  was  there. 
All  comfortless  he  stands ;  then,  with  a  sigh : 
"  'Tis  so  —  heav'n  wills  it,  and  my  hour  is  nigh  ! 
I  deem'd  Deiphobus  had  heard  my  call. 
But  he  secure  lies  guarded  in  the  wall.  380 

A  god  deceived  me ;  Pallas,  'twas  thy  deed : 
Death  and  black  fate  approach !     'Tis  I  must  bleed. 
No  refuge  now,  no  succour  from  above, 
Great  Jove  deserts  me,  and  the  son  of  Jove, 
Propitious  once  and  kind !     Then  welcome  fate  !       385 
'Tis  true  I  perish,  yet  I  perish  great : 
Yet  in  a  mighty  deed  I  shall  expire. 
Let  future  ages  hear  it,  and  admire !  " 

Fierce,  at  the  word,  his  weighty  sword  he  drew, 


BOOK   XXII  77 

And,  all  collected,  on  Achilles  Jiew.  390 

So  JoYe's°  bold  bird,  high  balanced  in  the  air, 
Stoops  from  the  clouds  to  truss  the  quiv'ring  hare. 
Nor  less  Achilles  his  fierce  soul  prepares ; 
Before  his  breast  the  flaming  shield  he  bears, 
Eefulgent  orb !  above  his  f ourfokF  cone  395 

The  gilded  horse-hair  sparkled  in  the  sun, 
Nodding  at  ev'ry  step  (Vulcanian°  frame !), 
And  as  h.6  mov'd,  bis  figure  seem'd  on  flame. 
As  radiant  Hesper  shines  ^vith  keener  light, 
Far-beaming  o'er  the  silver  host  of  night,  400 

When  all  the  starry  train  emblaze  the  sphere : 
So  shone  the  point  of  great  Achilles'  spear. 
In  his  right  hand  he  waves  the  weapon  round. 
Eyes  the  whole  man,  and  meditates  the  wound : 
But°  the  rich  mail  Patroclus  lately  wore,  405 

Securely  cas'd  the  warrior's  body  o'er. 
One  place  at  length  he  spies,  to  let  in  fate. 
Where  'twixt  the  neck  and  throat  the  jointed  plate 
Gave  entrance  :  thro'  that  penetrable  p)art 
Furious  he  drove  the  well-directed  dart :  410 

Nor  pierc'd  the  windpipe  3'et,  nor  took  the  pow'r 
Of  speech,  unhappy  !  from  thy  dying  hour. 
Prone  on  the  field  the  bleeding  warrior  lies, 
While  thus,  triumphing,  stern  Achilles  cries : 


78  POPE^S    ILIAD 

"At  last  is  Hector  stretcli'd  upon  the  plain,  415 

Who  fear'd  no  vengeance  for  Patroclus  slain  : 
Then,  prince !  you  should  have  fear'd  what  now  you 

feel ; 
Achilles  absent  was  Achilles  still. 
Yet  a  short  space  the  great  avenger  stay'd, 
Then  low  in  dust  thy  strength  and  glory  laid.  420 

Peaceful  he  sleeps,  with  all  our  rites  adorn'd, 
For  ever  honoured,  and  for  ever  mourn'd : 
While,  cast  to  all  the  rage  of  hostile  pow'r, 
Thee  birds  shall  mangle,  and  the  dogs  devour." 

Then  Hector,  fainting  at  th'  approach  of  death :    425 
"  By  thy  own  soul !  by  those  who  gave  thee  breath  ! 
By  all  the  sacred  prevalence  of  pray'r ; 
Ah,  leave  me  not  for  Grecian  dogs  to  tear ! 
The  common  rites  of  sepulture  bestow. 
To  soothe  a  father's  and  a  mother's  woe ;  430 

Let  their  large  gifts  procure  an  urn  at  least, 
And  Hector's  ashes  in  his  country  rest." 

"  No,  wretch  accurs'd ! "  relentless  he  replies 
(Flames,  as  he  spoke,  shot  flashing  from  his  eyes), 
"jSTot  those  who  gave  me  breath  should  bid  me  spare, 
Nor  all  the  sacred  prevalence^  of  pray'r.  436 

Could  I  myself  the  bloody  banquet  join ! 
No  —  to°  the  doGfs  that  carcase  I  resign. 


BOOK   XXII  79 

Should  Troy  to  bribe  me  bring  forth  all  her^store, 
And,  giving  thousands,  offer  thousands  more ;  440 

Should  Dardan  Priam,  and  his  weeping  dame, 
Drain  their  whole  realm  to  buy  one  fun'ral  flame ; 
Their  Hector  on  the  pile  they  should  not  see, 
Nor  rob  the  vultures  of  one  limb  of  thee."     y^ 

Then  thus  the  chief  his  dying  accents  drew :  445 

"  Thy  rage,  implacable  !  too  well  I  knew : 
The  Furies  that  relentless  breast  have  steel'd, 
And  curs'd  thee  with  a  heart  that  cannot  yield. 
Yet  think,  a  day  will  come,  when  fate's  decree 
And  angry  gods  shall  wreak  this  wrong  on  thee ;      450 
Phoebus  and  Paris  shall  avenge  my  fate. 

And  stretch°  thee  here,  before  this  Scsean  gate.'^ 
He  ceas'd :  the  fates  suppress'd  his  lab'ring  breath, 

And  his  eyes  stiffen'd  at  the  hand  of  death ; 

To  the  dark  realm  the  spirit  wings  its  way  455 

(The  manly  body  left  a  load  of  clay). 

And  plaintive  glides  along  the  dreary  coast, 

A  naked,  wand'ring,  melancholy  ghost ! 
Achilles,  musing  as  he  roll'd  his  eyes 

O'er  the  dead  hero,  thus  (unheard)  replies :  460 

"  Die  thou  the  first !  when  Jove  and  heav'n  ordain, 

I  follow  thee."     He  said,  and  stripp'd  the  slain. 

Then,  forcing  backward  from  the  gaping  wound 


80  POPE'S    ILIAD 

The  reeking  jav'lin,  cast  it  on  the  ground. 

The  thronging  Greeks  behold,  with  wond'ring  eyes,    465 

His  manly°  beauty  and  superior  size : 

Wliile  some,  ignobler,  the  great  dead  deface° 

With  wounds  ungen'rous,  or  with  taunts  disgrace. 

"  How  chang'd  that  Hector !  who,  like  Jove,  of  late 

Sent  lightning  on  our  fleets  and  scatter'd  fate  ! "      470 

High  o'er  the  slain  the  great  Achilles  stands, 
Begirt  with  heroes  and  surrounding  bands ; 
And  thus  aloud,  while  all  the  host  attends : 
"Princes  and  leaders  !  countrymen  and  friends! 
Since  now  at  length  the  pow'rful  will  of  heav'n        475 
The  dire  destroyer  to  our  arm  has  giv'n, 
Is  not  Troy  fall'n  already  ?     Haste,  ye  pow'rs  !^ 
See  if  already  their  deserted  tow'rs 
Are  left  unmanned ;  or  if  they  yet  retain 
The  souls  of  heroes,  their  great  Hector  slain.  480 

But  what  is  Troy,  or  glory  what  to  me  ? 
Or  why  reflects  my  mind  on  aught  but  thee, 
Divine  Patroclus  !  Death  has  seal'd  his  eyes  ;  .    ■ 

Unwept,  unhonour'd,  uninterr'd  he  lies  ! 
Can  his  dear  image  from  my  soul  depart,  485 

Long  as  the  vital  spirit  moves  my  heart  ? 
If,  in  the  melancholy  shades  below, 
The  flames  of  friends  and  lovers  cease  to  glow, 


BOOK    XXII  81 

Yet  mine  shall  sacred  last ;  mine,  unclecay'd, 

Burn  on  thro'  death,  and  animate  my  shade.  490 

Meanwhile,  ye  sons  of  Greece,  in  triumph  bring 

The  corse  of  Hector,  and  your  paeans  sing. 

Be  this  the  song,  slow  moving  tow'rd  the  shore, 

'  Hector°  is  dead,  and  Ilion  is  no  more.' " 

Then  his  fell  soul  a  thought  of  vengeance  bred      495 
(Unworthy  of  himself,  and  of  the  dead)  ; 
The  nervous  ancles  bor'd,  his  feet  he  bound 
With  thongs  inserted  thro'  the  double  wound ; 
These  fix'd  up  high  behind  the  rolling  wain. 
His  graceful  head  was  trail'd  along  the  plain.  500 

.Proud  on  his  car  th'  insulting  victor  stood. 
And  bore  aloft  his  arms,  distilling  blood. 
He  smites  the  steeds ;  the  rapid  chariot  flies ; 
The  sudden  clouds  of  circling  dust  arise. 
Now  lost  is  all  that  formidable  air ;  505 

The  face  divine  and  long-descending  hair 
Purple  the  ground,  and  streak  the  sable  sand ; 
^Deform'd,  dishonour'd,  in  his  native  land! 
Giv'n  to  the  rage  of  an  insulting  throng ! 
And,  in  his  parent's  sight,  now  dragg'd  along!  51c. 

The  mother  first  beheld  with  sad  survey ; 
She  rent  her  tresses,  venerably  grey. 
And  cast  far  off  the  regal  veils  away. 


82  POPE'S    ILIAD 

With  piercing  shrieks  his  bitter  fate  she  moans, 

While  the  sad  father  answers  groans  with  groans ;    515 

Tears  after  tears  his  mournful  cheeks  o'erflow, 

And  the  whole  city  wears  one  face  of  woe : 

No  less  than  if  the  rage  of  hostile  fires, 

From  her  foundations  curling  to  her  spires, 

O'er  the  proud  citadel  at  length  should  rise,  520 

And  the  last  blaze  send  Ilion  to  the  skies. 

The  wretched  monarch  of  the  falling  state, 

Distracted,  presses  to  the  Dardan  gate : 

Scarce  the  whole  people  stop  his  desp'rate  course. 

While  strong  affliction  gives  the  feeble  force :  525 

Grief  tears  his  heart,  and  drives  him  to  and  fro, 

In  all  the  raging  impotence  of  woe. 

At  length  he  roU'd  in  dust,  and  thus  begun. 

Imploring  all,  and  naming  one  by  one : 

"Ah  !  let  me,  let  me  go  where  sorrow  calls;  530 

I,  only  I,  will  issue  from  your  walls 

(Guide  or  companion,  friends !  I  ask  ye  none). 

And  bow  before  the  murd'rer  of  my  son ; 

My  grief  perhaps  his  pity  may  engage ; 

Perhaps  at  least  he  may  respect  my  age.  535 

He  has  a  father,  too ;  a  man  like  me ; 

One  not  exempt  from  age  and  misery 

(Vig'rous  no  more,  as  when  his  young  embrace 


BOOK   XXII  83 

Begot  this  pest  of  me  and  all  my  race). 

How  many  valiant  sons,  in  early  bloom,  540 

Has  that  curs'd  hand  sent  headlong  to  the  tomb  ! 

Thee,  Hector  !  last;  thy  loss  (divinely  brave  !) 

Sinks  my  sad  sonl  with  sorrow  to  the  grave. 

Oh  had  thy  gentle  spirit  pass'd  in  peace, 

The  son  expiring  in  the  sire's  embrace,  545 

While  both  thy  parents  wept  thy  fatal  hour, 

And,  bending  o'er  thee,  mix'd  the  tender  show'r ! 

Some  comfort  that  had  been,  some  sad  relief, 

To  melt  in  full  satiety  of  grief !  " 

Thus  wail'd  the  father,  grov'ling  on  the  ground,    550 
And  all  the  eyes  of  Ilion  stream'd  around. 

Amidst  her  matrons  Hecuba  appears 
(A  mourning  princess,  and  a  train  in  tears) : 
"  Ah !  why  has  heav'n  prolong'd  this  hated  breath. 
Patient  of  horrours,  to  behold  thy  death  ?  555 

0  Hector !  late  thy  parents'  pride  and  joy. 
The  boast  of  nations  !  the  defence  of  Troy  ! 
To  whom  her  safety  and  her  fame  she  ow'd, 
Her  chief,  her  hero,  and  almost  her  god ! 
0  fatal  change !  become  in  one  sad  day  560 

A  senseless  corse !  inanimated  clay  !  " 
^  But  not  as  yet  the  fatal  news  had  spread 
To  fair  Andromache,  of  Hector  dead ; 


84  POPE'S    ILIAD 

As  yet  no  messenger  had  told  his  fate, 

Nor  ev'n  his  stay  without  the  Scsean  gate.  565 

Far  in  the  close  recesses  of  the  dome, 

Pensive  she  plied  the  melancholy  loom ; 

A  growing  work  employed  her  secret  hours, 

Confus'dly  gay  with  intermingled  flow'rs. 

Her  fair-hair'd  handmaids  heat  the  brazen  urn,         570 

The  bath  preparing  for  her  lord's  return  : 

In  vain  :  alas  !  her  lord  returns  no  more  ! 

Unbath'd  he  lies,  and  bleeds  along  the  shore  ! 

Now  from  the  walls  the  clamours  reach  her  ear, 

And  all  her  members  shake  with  sudden  fear;  575 

Forth  from  her  iv'ry  hand  the  shuttle  falls. 

As  thus,  astonish'd,  to  her  maids  she  calls : 

"  Ah,  follow  me  !  "  she  cried ;  "  what  plaintive  noise 
Invades  my  ear  ?     'Tis  sure  my  mother's  voice. 
My  falt'ring  knees  their  trembling  frame  desert,       580 
A  pulse  unusual  flutters  at  my  heart. 
Some  strange  disaster,  some  reverse  of  fate 
(Ye  gods  avert  it!)  threats  the  Trojan  state. 
Far  be  the  omen  which  my  thoughts  suggest ! 
But  much  I  fear  my  Hector's  dauntless  breast  585 

Confronts  Achilles  ;  chas'd  along  the  plain. 
Shut  from  our  walls !  I  fear,  I  fear  him  slain ! 
Safe  in  the  crowd  he  ever  scorn'd  to  wait. 


BOOK   XXII  85 

And  sought  for  glory  in  the  jaws  of  fate : 

Perhaps  that  noble  heat  has  cost  his  breath,  590 

Now  quench'cl  for  ever  in  the  arms  of  death." 

She  spoke ;  and,  furious,  with  distracted  pace. 
Fears  in  her  heart,  and  anguish  in  her  face. 
Flies  thro'  the  dome  (the  maids  her  step  pursue). 
And  mounts  the  walls,  and  sends  around  her  view.      595 
Too  soon  her  eyes  the  killing  object  found, 
The  godlike  Hector  dragg'd  along  the  ground. 
A  sudden  darkness  shades  her  swimming  eyes : 
She  faints,  she  falls ;  her  breath,  her  colour  flies. 
Her  hair's  fair  ornaments,  the  braids  that  bound,      600 
The  net  that  held  them,  and  the  wreath  that  crown'd. 
The  veil  and  diadem,  flew  far  away 
(The  gift  of  Venus  on  her  bridal  day). 
Around,  a  train  of  weeping  sisters  stands, 
To  raise  her  sinking  with  assistant  hands.  605 

Scarce  from  the  verge  of  death  recall' d,  again 
She  faints,  or  but  recovers  to  complain : 

''  0  wretched  husband  of  a  wretched  wife ! 
Born  with  one  fate,  to  one  unhappy  life ! 
For°  sure  one  star  its  baneful  beam  displayed  610 

On  Priam's  roof  and  Hippoplacia's  shade. 
From  diff'rent  parents,  diff' rent  climes,  we  came, 
At  diff'rent  periods,  yet  our  fate  the  same ! 


86  POPE'S    ILIAD 

Why  was  my  birth  to  great  Etition  ow'd, 

And  why  was  all  that  tender  care  bestow'd  ?  615 

Would  I  had  never  been !  —  0  thou,  the  ghost 

Of  my  dead  husband  !  miserably  lost ! 

Thou  to  the  dismal  realms  for  ever  gone ! 

And  I  abandon'd,  desolate,  alone ! 

An  only  child,  once  comfort  of  my  pains,  620 

Sad  product  now  of  hapless  love,  remains ! 

No  more  to  smile  upon  his  sire !  no  friend 

To  help  him  now  !  no  father  to  defend ! 

For  should  he  'scape  the  sword,  the  common  doom, 

What  wrongs  attend  him,  and  what  griefs  to  come  !  625 

Ev'n  from  his  own  paternal  roof  expell'd, 

Some  stranger  ploughs  his  patrimonial  field. 

The  day  that  to  the  shades  the  father  sends, 

Eobs  the  sad  orphan  of  his  father's  friends : 

He,  wretched  outcast  of  mankind !  appears  630 

For  ever  sad,  for  ever  bath'd  in  tears ; 

Amongst  the  happy,  unregarded  he 

Hangs  on  the  robe  or  trembles  at  the  knee ; 

While  those  his  father's  former  bounty  fed, 

Nor  reach  the  goblet,  nor  divide  the  bread :  635 

The  kindest  but  his  present  wants  allay, 

To  leave  him  wretched  the  succeeding  day. 

Frugal  compassion !     Heedless,  they  who  boast 


BOOK    XXII  87 

Both  parents  still,  nor  feel  what  he  has  lost, 

Shall  cry,  *  Begone  1°  thy  father  feasts  not  here  ' :     640 

The  wretch  obeys,  retiring  with  a  tear. 

Thus  wretched,  thus  retiring  all  in  tears. 

To  my  sad  soul  Astyanax  appears  ! 

Forc'd  by  repeated  insults  to  return. 

And  to  his  widow'd  mother  vainly  mourn,  645 

He  who,  with  tender  delicacy  bred. 

With  princes  sported,  and  on  dainties  fed. 

And,  when  still  ev'ning  gave  him  up  to  rest. 

Sunk  soft  in  down  upon  the  nurse's  breast,  649 

Must  —  ah  !  what  must  he  not  ?    Whom  Ilion  calls 

Astyanax,  from  her  well-guarded  walls, 

Is  now  that  name  no  more,  unhappy  boy ! 

Since  now  no  more  the  father  guards  his  Troy. 

But  thou,  my  Hector  !  liest  expos'd  in  air. 

Far  from  thy  parents'  and  thy  consort's  care,  655 

Whose  hand  in  vain,  directed  by  her  love, 

The  martial  scarf  and  robe  of  triumph  wove. 

Now  to  devouring  flames  be  these  a  prey, 

Useless  to  thee,  from  this  accursed  day ! 

Yet  let  the  sacrifice  at  least  be  paid,  660 

An  honour  to  the  living,  not  the  dead  ! " 

So  spake  the  mournful  dame  :  her  matrons  hear, 
Sigh  back  her  sighs,  and  answer  tear  with  tear. 


BOOK  XXIV 

THE  REDEMPTION  OF  THE  BODY  OF  HECTOR 

Now  from  the  finish'd  games"  the  Grecian  band 
Seek  their  black  ships,  and  clear  the  crowded  strand : 
All  stretch'd  at  ease  the  genial  banquet  share, 
And  pleasing  slumbers  quiet  all  their  care. 
Not  so  Achilles  :  he,  to  grief  resign'd,  5 

His  friend's  dear  image  present  to  his  mind, 
Takes  his  sad  couch,  more  unobserv'd  to  weep, 
Nor  tastes  the  gifts  of  all-composing  sleep ; 
Eestless  he  roll'd  around  his  weary  bed, 
And  all  his  soul  on  his  Patroclus  fed :  lo 

The  form  so  pleasing,  and  the  heart  so  kind, 
That  youthful  vigour,  and  that  manly  mind, 
What   toils   they   shar'd,    what    martial   works   they 

wrought,  /    J 
What  seas  they  measur'd,  and  what  fields  they  fought ; 
All  pass'd  before  him  in  rememb'rance  dear,  15 

Thought  follows  thought,  and  tear  succeeds  to  tear. 
And  now  supine,  now  prone,  the.  hero  lay, 
xN"ow  shifts  his  side,  impatient  for  the  day  ; 


BOOK    XXIV  89 

Then  starting  up,  disconsolate  lie  goes 

Wide°  on  the  lonely  beach  to  vent  his  woes.  20 

There  as  the  solitary  mourner  raves, 

The  ruddy  morning  rises  o'er  the  waves : 

Soon  as  it  rose,  his  furious  steeds  he  join'd; 

The  chariot  flies,  and  Hector  trails  behind. 

And  thrice,  Patroclus  !  round  thy  monument^  25 

Was  Hector  dragg'd,  then  hurried  to  the  tent. 

There  sleep  at  last  o'ercomes  the  hero's  eyes; 

While  foul  in  dust  th'  unhonour'd  carcase  lies. 

But  not  deserted  by  the  pitying  skies. 

For  Phoebus  watch'd  it  with  superior  care,  30 

Preserv'd  from  gaping  wounds,  and  tainting  air  ; 

And,  ignominious  as  it  swept  the  field, 

Spread  o'er  the  sacred  corse  his  golden°  shield. 

All  heav'n  was  mov'd,  and  Hermes°  will'd  to  go 

By  stealth  to  snatch  him  from  th'  insulting  foe :         35 

But  Neptune  this,  and  Pallas  this  denies, 

And  th'  unrelenting  empress"  of  the  skies  : 

E'er  since  that  day  iinj^Llaea^ble^to  Troy, 

What  time  young  Paris,"  simple  shepherd  boy, 

Won  by  destructive  lust  (reward  obscene),  40 

Their  charms  rejected  for  the  Cyprian  queen. 

But  when  the  tenth  celestial  morning  broke, 

To  heav'n  assembled,  thus  Apollo  spoke : 


90  POPE'S    ILIAD 

"  Unpitying  pow'rs  !  liow  oft  each  holy  fane 
Has  Hector  ting'd  with  blood  of  victims  slain !  45 

And  can  ye  still  his  cold  remains  pursue  ? 
Still  grudge  his  body  to  the  Trojans'  view  ? 
Deny  to  consort,  mother,  son,  and  sire, 
The  last  sad  honours  of  a  fun'ral  fire  ? 
Is  then  the  dire  Achilles  all  your  care  ?  50 

That  iron  heart,  inflexibly  severe ; 
A  lion,  not  a  man,  who  slaughters  wide 
In  strength  of  rage  and  impotence  of  pride, 
AYho  hastes  to  murder  with  a  savage  joy, 
Invades  around,  and  breathes  but  to  destroy.  55 

Shame°  is  not  of  his  soul ;  nor  understood 
The  greatest  evil  and  the  greatest  good. 
Still  for  one  loss  he  rages  unresign'd, 
Eepugnant  to  the  lot  of  all  mankind ; 
To  lose  a  friend,  a  brother,  or  a  son,  60 

Heav'n  dooms  each  mortal,  and  its  will  is  done : 
Awhile  they  sorrow,  then  dismiss  their  care ; 
Fate  gives  the  wound,  and  man  is  born  to  bear. 
But  this  insatiate  the  commission  giv'n 
By  fate  exceeds,  and  tempts  the  wrath  of  heav'n :      65 
Lo  how  his  rage  dishonest  drags  along 
Hector's  dead  earth,  insensible  of  wrong ! 
Brave  tho'  he  be,  yet  by  no  reason  aw'd. 


BOOK   XXIV  91 

He  violates  the  laws  of  man  and  God ! " 

"  If  equal  lionours  by  the  partial  skies  70 

Are  doom'd  both  heroes,"  Juno  thus  replies, 
"  If  Thetis'  son  must  no  distinction  know, 
Then  hear,  ye  gods !  the  patron  of  the  bow. 
But  Hector  only  boasts  a  mortal  claim. 
His  birth  deriving  from  a  mortal  dame:  75 

Achilles,  of  your  own  ethereal  race, 
Springs  from  a  goddess,  by  a  man's  embrace 
(A  goddess  by  ourself  to  Peleus  giv'n 
A  man  divine,  and  chosen  friend  of  heav'n) : 
To  grace  those  nuptials,  from  the  bright  abode  ^ 

Yourselves  were  present ;  where  this  minstrel-god 
(Well-pleas'd  to  share  the  feast)  amid  the  quire 
Stood  proud  to  hymn,  and  tune  his  youthful  lyre." 

Then  thus  the  Thund'rer  checks  th'  imperial  dame : 
^'  Let  not  thy  wrath  the  court  of  heav'n  inflame ;        85 
Their  merits  nor  their  honours  are  the  same. 
But  mine,  and  ev'ry  god's  peculiar  grace 
Hector  deserves,  of  all  the  Trojan  race: 
Still  on  our  shrines  his  grateful  off' rings  lay 
(The  only  honours  men  to  gods  can  pay),  90 

Nor  ever  from  our  smoking  altar  ceas'd 
The  pure  libation,  and  the  holy  feast. 
Howe'er,  by  stealth  to  snatch  the  corse  away, 


92  POPE'S   ILIAD 

We  will  not :  Thetis  guards  it  niglit  and  day. 

But  haste,  and  summon  to  our  courts  above  95 

The  azure°  queen :  let  her  persuasion  move 

Her  furious  son  from  Priam  to  receive 

The  proffer'd  ransom,  and  the  corse  to  leave." 

He  added  not :  and  Iris°  from  the  skies, 
Swift  as  a  whirlwind,  on  the  message  flies;  100 

Meteorous  the  face  of  ocean  sweeps, 
Refulgent  gliding  o'er  the  sable  deeps. 
Between  where  Samos°  wide  his  forests  spreads, ' 
And  rocky  Imbrus  lifts  its  pointed  heads, 
Down  plung'd  the  maid  (the  parted  waves  resound) ;  105 
She  plung'd,  and  instant  shot  the  dark  profound. 
As,  bearing  death  in  the  fallacious  bait, 
rrom°  the  bent  angle  sinks  the  leaden  weight ; 
So  pass'd  the  goddess  thro'  the  closing  wave, 
Where  Thetis  sorroAv'd  in  her  secret  cave :  no 

There  plac'd  amidst  her  melancholy  train 
(The  blue-hair'd°  sisters  of  the  sacred  main) 
Pensive  she  sat,  revolving  fates  to  come. 
And  wept  her  godlike  son's  approaching  doom. 

Then  thus  the  goddess  of  the  painted  bowT  115 

"  Arise,  0  Thetis  !  from  thy  seats  below ; 
'Tis  Jove  that  calls."     "  And  why,"  the  dame  replies, 
"  Calls  Jove  his  Thetis  to  the  hated  skies  ? 


BOOK    XXIV  93 

Sad  object  as  I  am  for  heav'nly  sight ! 

All !  ma}"  my  sorrows  ever  shun  the  light !  120 

Howe'er,  be  heav'n's  almighty  sire  obey'd." 

She  spake,  and  veil'd  her  head  in  sable  shade, 

Which,  flowing  long,  her  graceful  person  clad ; 

And  forth  she  pac'd  majestically  sad. 

Then  through  the  world  of  waters  they  repair       125 
(The  way  fair  Iris  led)  to  upper  air. 
The  deeps  dividing,  o'er  the  coast  they  rise. 
And  touch  with  momentary  flight  the  skies. 
There  in  the  light^ning's  blaze  the  sire  they  found 
And  all  the  gods  in  shining  synod  round.  130 

Thetis  approach'd  with  anguish  in  her  face 
(Minerva  rising  gave  the  mourner  place), 
Ev'n  Juno  sought  her  sorrows  to  console, 
And  offer'd  from  her  hand  the  nectar-bowl : 
She  tasted,  and  resign'd  it :  then  began  135 

The  sacred  sire  of  gods  and  mortal  man : 

"  Thou  com'st,  fair  Thetis,  but  with  grief  o'ercast. 
Maternal  sorrows,  long,  ah  long  to  last ! 
Suflice,  we  know  and  we  partake  thy  cares : 
But  yield  to  fate,  and  hear  what  Jove  declares.         140 
Nine  days  are  past,  since  all  the  court  above 
In  Hector's  cause  have  mov'd  the  ear  of  Jove ; 
'Twas  voted,  Hermes  from  his  godlike  foe 


M  POPE'S   ILIAD 

By  stealth  should  bear  Mm,  but  we  will'd  not  so : 

We  will,  thy  son  himself  the  corse  restore,  145 

And  to  his  conquest  add  this  glory°  more. 

Then  hie  thee  to  him,  and  our  mandate  bear ; 

Tell  him  he  tempts  the  wrath  of  heav'n  too  far : 

Nor  let  him  more  (our  anger  if  he  dread) 

Yent  his  sad  vengeance  on  the  sacred  dead :  150 

But  yield  to  ransom  and  the  father's  pray'r. 

The  mournful  father  Iris  shall  prepare, 

With  gifts  to  sue,  and  offer  to  his  hands 

Whate'er  his  honour  asks  or  heart  demands." 

His  word  the  silver-footed  queen  attends,  155 

And  from  Olympus'  snowy  tops  descends. 
Arriv'd,  she  heard  the  voice  of  loud  lament. 
And  echoing  groans  that  shook  the  lofty  tent. 
His  friends  prepare  the  victim,  and  dispose 
Repast  unheeded,  while  he  vents  his  woes.  160 

The  goddess  seats  her  by  her  pensive  son ; 
She  press'd  his  hand,  and  tender  thus  begun : 

"  How  long,  unhappy  !  shall  thy  sorrows  flow. 
And  thy  heart  waste  with  life-consuming  woe. 
Mindless  of  food,  or  love,  whose  pleasing  reign         165 
Soothes  weary  life,  and  softens  human  pain  ? 
Oh  snatch  the  moments  yet  within  thy  pow'r ; 
Not  long  to  live,  indulge  the  am'rous  hour ! 


BOOK  XXIV  95 

Lo !  Jove  himself  (for  Jove's  command  I  bear) 

Forbids  to  tempt  the  wrath  of  heav'n  too  far.  170 

Xo  longer  then  (his  fury  if  thou  dread) 

Detain  the  relics  of  great  Hector  dead ; 

ISTor  vent  on  senseless  earth  thy  vengeance  vain, 

But  yield  to  ransom,  and  restore  the  slain." 

To  whom  Achilles  :  "  Be  the  ransom  giv'n,  175 

And  we  submit,  since  such  the  will  of  heav'n." 

While  thus  they  commun'd,  from  th'  Olympian  bow'rs 
Jove  orders  Iris  to  the  Trojan  tow'rs : 
"  Haste,  winged  goddess,  to  the  sacred  town, 
And  urge  her  monarch  to  redeem  his  son ;  180 

Alone  the  Ilian  ramparts  let  him  leave, 
And  bear  what  stern  Achilles  may  receive : 
Alone,  for  so  we  will :  no  Trojan  near. 
Except,  to  place  the  dead  with  decent  care. 
Some  aged  herald,  who,  with  gentle  hand,  185 

May  the  slow  mules  and  fun'ral  car  command. 
Nor  let  him  death,  nor  let  him  danger  dread, 
Safe  thro'  the  foe  by  our  protection  led : 
Him  Hermes  to  Achilles  shall  convey. 
Guard  of  his  life,  and  partner  of  his  way.  190 

Fierce  as  he  is,  Achilles'  self  shall  spare 
His  age,  nor  touch  one  venerable  hair : 
Some  thought  there  must  be  in  a  soul  so  brave, 


9^  POPE'S    ILIAD 

Some  sense  of  duty,  some  desire  to  save." 

Then  down  her  bow  the  winged  Iris  drives,  195 

And  swift  at  Priam's  mournful  court  arrives : 
Where  the  sad  sons  beside  their  father's  throne 
Sate  bathed  in  tears,  and  answer'd  groan  with  groan. 
And  all  amidst  them  lay  the  hoary  sire 
(Sad  scene  of  woe !),  his  face  his  wrapp'd  attire        200 
Conceal'd  from  sight ;  with  frantic  hands  he  spread 
A  show'r  of  ashes  o'er  his  neck  and  head. 
From  room  to  room  his  pensive  daughters  roam : 
Whose  shrieks  and  clamours  fill  the  vaulted  dome ; 
Mindful  of  those  who,  late  their  pride  and  joy,  205 

Lie  pale  and  breathless  round  the  fields  of  Troy ! 
Before  the  king  Jove's  messenger  appears, 
And  thus  in  whispers  greets  his  trembling  ears : 

"  Fear  not,  0  father  !  no  ill  news  I  bear  5 
From  Jove  I  come,  Jove  makes  thee  still  his  care ;  210 
For  Hector's  sake  these  walls  he  bids  thee  leave. 
And  bear  what  stern  Achilles  may  receive: 
Alone,  for  so  he  wills :  no  Trojan  near, 
Except,  to  place  the  dead  with  decent  care. 
Some  aged  herald,  who,  with  gentle  hand,  215 

May  the  slow  mules  and  fun'ral  car  command. 
jS'or  shalt  thou  death,  nor  shalt  thou  danger  dread, 
Safe  thro'  the  foe  by  his  protection  led : 


BOOK   XXIV  97 

Thee  Hermes  to  Pelides  shall  convey, 

Guard  of  thy  life,  and  partner  of  thy  way.  220 

Fierce  as  he  is,  Achilles'  self  shall  spare 

Thy  age,  nor  touch  one  venerable  hair : 

Some  thought  there  must  be  in  a  soul  so  brave. 

Some  sense  of  duty,  some  desire  to  save.'^ 

She  spoke,  and  vanish'd.     Priam  bids  prepare       225 
His  gentle  mules,  and  harness  to  the  car ; 
There,  for  the  gifts,  a  polish'd  casket  lay : 
His  pious  sons  the  king's  commands  obey. 
Then  passed  the  monarch  to  his  bridal-room, 
Where  cedar-beams  the  lofty  roofs  perfume,  230 

And  where  the  treasures  of  his  empire  lay; 
Then  call'd  his  queen,  and  thus  began  to  say : 

^'  Unhappy  consort  of  a  king  distress'd  ! 
Partake  the  troubles  of  thy  husband's  breast : 
I  saw  descend  the  messenger  of  Jove,  ?35 

Who  bids  me  try  Achilles'  mind  to  move, 
Forsake  these  ramparts,  and  with  gifts  obtain 
The  corse  of  Hector,  at  yon  navy  slain. 
Tell  me  thy  thought :  my  heart  impels  to  go 
Thro'  hostile  camps,  and  bears  me  to  the  foe^i'  240 

The  hoary  monarch  thus :  her  piercing  cries 
Sad  Hecuba  renews,  and  then  replies : 
^'  Ah  !  whither  wanders  thy  distemper'd  mind ; 
a 


98  POPE'S    ILIAD 

And  where  the  prudence  now  that  aw'd  mankind, 

Thro'  Phrygia  once  and  foreign  regions  known  ?       245 

Now  all  confus'd,  distracted,  overthrown ! 

Singly  to  pass  thro'  hosts  of  foes !  to  face 

(0  heart  of  steel !)  the  murd'rer  of  thy  race ! 

To  view  that  deathful  eye,  and  wander  o'er 

Those  hands,  yet  red  with  Hector's  noble  gore !        250 

Alas  !  my  lord !  he  knows  not  how  to  spare. 

And  what  his  mercy,  thy  slain  sons  declare ; 

So  brave  !  so  many  fall'n  !     To  calm  his  rage 

Vain  were  thy  dignity,  and  vain  thy  age. 

No  —  pent  in  this  sad  palace,  let  us  give  255 

To  grief  the  wretched  days  we  have  to  live. 

Still,  still  for  Hector  let  our  sorrows  flow, 

Born  to  his  own  and  to  his  parents'  woe ! 

Doom'd  from  the  hour  his  luckless  life  begun. 

To  dogs,  to  vultures,  and  to  Peleus'  son !  26c 

Oh !  in  his  dearest  blood  might  I  allay 

My  rage,  and  these  barbarities  repay ! 

For  ah !  could  Hector  merit  thus,  whose  breath 

Expir'd  not  meanly  in  unactive  death  ? 

He  pour'd  his  latest  blood  in  manly  fight,  265 

And  fell  a  hero  in  his  country's  right." 

"  Seek  not  to  stay  me,  nor  my  soul  affright 
With  words  of  omen,  like  a  bird  of  night," 


BOOK   XXIV  99 

Replied  unmov'cl  the  venerable  man  : 

^'  'Tis  heav'n  commands  me,  and  you  urge  in  vain.    27a 

Had  any  mortal  voice  th'  injunction  laid, 

Nor  augur,  priest,  nor  seer  had  been  obey'd. 

A  present  goddess  brought  the  high  command : 

I  saw,  I  heard  her,  and  the  word  shall  stand. 

I  go,  ye  gods  !  obedient  to  your  call :  275 

If  in  yon  camp  your  pow'rs  have  doom'd  my  fall, 

Content :  by  the  same  hand  let  me  expire  ! 

Add  to  the  slaughter'd  son  the  wretched  sire ! 

One  cold  embrace  at  least  ma}^  be  allow'd, 

And  my  last  tears  flow  mingled  with  his  blood  I  "     280 

Forth  from  his  open'd  stores,  this  said,  he  drew 
Twelve  costly  carpets  of  refulgent  hue ; 
As  many  vests,  as  many  mantles  told, 
And  twelve  fair  veils,  and  garments  stiff  with  gold ; 
Two  tripods  next,  and  twice  two  chargers"  shine,      285 
With  ten  pure  talents  from  the  richest  mine ; 
And  last  a  large,  well-labour'd  bowl  had  place 
(The  pledge  of  treaties  once  with  friendly  Thrace) : 
Seem'd  all  too  mean  the  stores  he  could  employ. 
For  one  last  look  to  buy  him  back  to  Troy  !  290 

Lo !  the  sad  father,  frantic  with  his  pain, 
Around  him  furious  drives  his  menial  train : 
In  vain  each  slave  with  duteous  care  attends, 


100  POPE'S    ILIAD 

Each°  office  hurts  him,  and  each  face  offends. 

''  What  make  ye  here,  officious  crowds  !  "  he  cries  ;  295 

"  Hence,  nor  obtrude  your  anguish  on  my  eyes. 

Have  ye  no  griefs  at  home,  to  fix  ye  there  ? 

Am  I  the  only  object  of  despair? 

Am  I  become  my  people's  common  show, 

Set  up  by  Jove  your  spectacle  of  woe  ?    _  300 

No,  you  must  feel  him  too :  yourselves  must  fall ; 

The  same  stern  god  to  ruin  gives  you  all : 

Nor  is  great  Hector  lost  by  me  alone ; 

Your  sole  defence,  your  guardian  pow'r,  is  gone ! 

I  see  your  blood  the  fields  of  Phrygia  drown ;  305 

I  see  the  ruins  of  your  smoking  town ! 

Oh  send  me,  gods,  ere  that  sad  day  shall  come, 

A  willing  ghost  to  Pluto's  dreary  dome  !  " 

He  said,  and  feebly  drives  his  friends  away : 
The  sorrowing  friends  his  frantic  rage  obey.  310 

Next  on  his  sons  his  erring°  fury  falls, 
Polifes,  Paris,  Agathon,  he  calls ; 
His  threats  Dei'phobus  and  Dius  hear, 
Hippothoiis,  Pammon,  Helenus  the  seer, 
And  gen'rous  Antiphon  ;  for  yet  these  nine  315 

Surviv'd,  sad  relics  of  his  num'rous  line. 

"  Inglorious  sons  of  an  unhappy  sire  ! 
Why  did  not  all  in  Hector's  cause  expire  ? 


BOOK   XXIV  101 

Wretch  that  I  am !  my  bravest  offspring  slain, 

You,  the  disgrace  of  Priam's  house,  remain !  320 

Mestor  the  brave,  renown'd  in  ranks  of  war. 

With  Troilus,°  dreadful  on  his  rushing  car, 

And  last  great  Hector,  more  than  man  divine, 

For  sure  he  seem'd  not  of  terrestrial  line ! 

All  those  relentless  ]\Iars  untimely  slew,  325 

And  left  me  these,  a  soft  and  servile  crew. 

Whose  days  the  feast  and  wanton  dance  employ. 

Gluttons  and  flatt'rers,  the  contempt  of  Troy ! 

Why  teach  ye  not  my  rapid  wheels  to  run, 

And  speed  my  journey  to  redeem  my  son  ?  "  330 

The  sons  their  father's  wretched  age  revere, 
Forgive  his  anger,  and  produce  the  car. 
High  on  the  seat  the  cabinet  they  bind : 
The  new-made  caT  with  solid  beauty  shin'd : 
Box  was  the  yoke,  emboss'd  with  costly  pains,  335 

And   hung  with  ringlets°  to  receive  the  reins : 
Nine  cubits  long,  the  traces  swept  the  ground ; 
These  to  the  chariot's  polish'd  pole  they  bound. 
Then  fix'd  a  ring  the  running  reins  to  guide. 
And,  close  beneath,  the  gather'd  ends  were  tied.        340 
Next  with  the  gifts  (the  price  of  Hector  slain) 
The  sad  attendants  load  the  groaning  wain : 
Last  to  the  yoke  the  well-match'd  mules  they  bring 


102  POPE'S   ILIAD 

(The  gift  of  Mysia'to  the  Trojan  king). 
But  the  fair  horses,  long  his  darling  care,  345 

Himself  receiv'd,  and  harness'd  to  his  car : 
Griev'd  as  he  was,  he  not  this  task  denied ; 
The  hoary  herald  help'd  him  at  his  side. 
While  careful  these  the  gentle  coursers  join'd, 
Sad  Hecuba  approach'd  with  anxious  mind ;  350 

A  golden  bowl,  that  foam'd  with  fragrant  wine 
(Libation  destin'd  to  the  pow'r  divine), 
Held  in  her  right,  before  the  steeds  she  stands, 
And  thus  consigns  it  to  the  monarch's  hands:-         354 
"  Take  this,  and  pour  to  Jove  ;  that,  safeffomharms, 
His  grace  restore  thee  to  our  roof  and  arms. 
Since,  victor  of  thy  fears,  and  slighting  mine, 
Heav'n  or  thy  soul  inspire  this  bold  design. 
Pray  to  that  god°  who,  high  on  Ida's -brow, 
Surveys  thy  desolated  realms  below,  360 

His  winged°  messenger  to  send  from  high, 
And  lead  the  way  with  heav'nly  augury : 
Let  the  strong  sov'reign  of  the  plumy  race 
Tow'r  on  the  right  of  yon  ethereal  space. 
That  sign  beheld,  and  strengthen'd  from  above,        365 
Boldly  pursue  the  journey  mark'd  by  Jove ; 
But  if  the  god  his  augury  denies, 
Suppress  thy  impulse,  nor  reject  advice." 


BOOK   XXIV  103 

"  'Tis  just/'  said  Priam,  "  to  the  sire  above 
To  raise  our  hands  ;  for  who  so  good  as  Jove  ?  "       370 

He  spoke,  and  bade  th'  attendant  handmaid  bring 
The  purest  water  of  the  living  spring 
(Her  ready  hands  the  ewer  and  bason  held) ; 
Then  took  the  golden  cup  his  queen  had  fill'd  ; 
On  the  mid°  pavement  pours  the  rosy  wine,  375 

Uplifts  his  eyes,  and  calls  the  pow'r  divine : 

'^0  first  and  greatest!  heav'n's'imperial  lord! 
On  lofty  Ida's  holy  hill  ador'd  I 
To  stern  Achilles  now  direct  my  ways, 
And  teach  him  mercy  when  a  father  prays.  2>%9 

If  such  thy  will,  dispatch  from  yonder  sky 
Thy  sacred  bird,  celestial  augury  ! 
Let  the  strong  sovereign  of  the  plumy  race 
Tow'r  on  the  right  of  yon  ethereal  space : 
So  shall  thy  suppliant,  strengthen'd  from  above,       385 
Fearless  pursue  the  journey  mark'd  by  Jove." 

Jove  heard  his  pray'r,  and  from  the  throne  on  high 
Dispatch'd  his  bird,  celestial  augury  ! 
The  swift-wing'd  chaser  of  the  feather'd  game, 
And  known  to  gods  by  Percnos'°  lofty  name.  39c 

"Wide  as  appears  some  palace-gate  display'd, 
So  broad  his  pinions  stretch'd  their  ample  shade. 
As,  stooping  dexter°  with  resounding  wings. 


104  POPE'S    ILIAD 

Til'  imperial  bird  descends  in  airy  rings. 

A  dawn  of  joy  in  ev'ry  face  appears;  395 

The  mourning  matron  dries  her  tim'rous  tears. 

Swift  on  his  car  th'  impatient  monarch  sprung; 

The  brazen  portal  in  his  passage  rung. 

The  mules  preceding  draw  the  loaded  wain, 

Charg'd  with  the  gifts  ;  Idaeus  holds  the  rein :  400 

The  king  himself  his  gentle  steeds  controls, 

And  thro'  surrounding  friends  the  chariot  rolls : 

On  his  slow  wheels  the  following  people  wait, 

Mourn  at  each  step,  and  give  him  up  to  fate; 

With  hands  uplifted,  eye  him  as  he  pass'd,  405 

And  gaze  upon  him  as  they  gaz'd  their  last. 

Now  forward  fares  the  father  on  his  way, 
Thro'  the  lone  fields,  and  back  to  Ilion  they. 
Great  Jove  beheld  him  as  he  cross'd  the  plain. 
And  felt  the  woes  of  miserable  man.  410 

Then  thus  to  Hermes  :  "  Thou,  whose  constant  cares 
Still  succour  mortals,  and  attend  their  pray'rs ! 
Behold  an  object  to  thy  charge  consign'd  ; 
If  ever  pity  touch'd  thee  for  mankind, 
Go,  guard  the  sire  ;  th'  observing  foe  prevent,  415 

And  safe  conduct  him  to  Achilles'  tent." 

The  god  obeys,  his  golden  pinions  binds, 
And  mounts  incumbent"  on  the  wings  of  winds, 


BOOK    XXIV  105 

That  high  thro'  fiekls  of  air  his  flight  sustain, 

O'er  the  wide  earth,  and  o'er  the  boundless  main :    420 

Then  grasps  the  wand  that  causes  sleep  to  fly, 

Or  in  soft  slumbers  seals  the  wakeful  eye : 

Thus  arm'd,  swift  Hermes  steers  his  airy  way, 

And  stoops  on  Hellespont's  resounding  sea. 

A  beauteous  youth,  majestic  and  divine,  425 

He  seem'd  ;  fair  offspring  of  some  princely  line ! 

Now  twilight  veil'd  the  glaring  face  of  day. 

And  clad  the  dusky  fields  in  sober  grey ; 

What  time  the  herald  and  the  hoary  king, 

Their  chariot  stopping  at  the  silver°  spring,  430 

That  circling  Ilus'°  ancient  marble  flows, 

AUow'd  their  mules  and  steeds  a  short  repose. 

Thro'  the  dim  shade  the  herald  first  espies 

A  man's  approach,  and  thus  to  Priam  cries : 

''  I  mark  some  foe's  advance  :  0  king  !  beware  ;        435 

This  hard  adventure  claims  thy  utmost  care ; 

For  much  I  fear  destruction  hovers  nigh : 

Our  state  asks  counsel.     Is  it  best  to  fly  ? 

Or,  old  and  helpless,  at  his  feet  to  fall^ 

(Two  wretched  suppliants),  and  for  mercy  call  ?  "    440 

Th'  afflicted  monarch  shiver'd  with  despair ; 
Pale  grew  his  face,  and  upright  stood  his  hair; 
Sunk  was  his  heart ;  his  colour  went  and  came  j 


106  POPE'S    ILIAD 

A  sudden  trembling  shook  his  aged  frame : 

When  Hermes,  greeting,  touch'd  his  royal  hand,       445 

Andj^entle,  thus  accosts  with  kind  demand : 

"^^^y  whither,  father !  when  each  mortal  sight 
Is  seal'd  in  sleep,  thou  wander'st  thro'  the  night. 
Why  roam  thy  mules  and  steeds  the  plains  along. 
Thro'  Grecian  foes,  so  num'rous  and  so  strong  ?        450 
What  couldst  thou  hope,  should  these  thy  treasures 

view, 
These,  who  with  endless  hate  thy  race  pursue  ? 
For  what  defence,  alas  !  couldst  thou  provide. 
Thyself  not  young,  a  weak  old  man  thy  guide  ? 
Yet  suffer  not  thy  soul  to  sink  with  dread;  455 

Erom  me  no  harm  shall  touch  thy  rev'rend  head : 
Prom  Greece  I'll  guard  thee  too  ;  for  in  those  lines° 
The  living  image  of  my  father  shines." 

"  Thy  words,  that  speak  benevolence  of  mind, 
Are  true,  my  son!  "  the  godlike  sire  rejoin'd :  460 

"  Great  are  my  hazards  ;  but  the  gods  survey 
My  steps,  and  send  thee  guardian  of  my  way. 
Hail !  and  be  blest !  for  scarce  of  mortal  kind 
Appear  thy  form,  thy  feature,  and  thy  mind." 

'•  Nor  true  are  all  thy  words,  nor  erring  wide,"      465 
The  sacred  messenger  of  heav'n  replied : 
*'  But  say,  convey'st  thou  thro'  the  lonely  plains 


BOOK   XXIV  107 

What  yet  most  precious  of  thy  store  remains, 
To  lodge  ill  safety  with  some  friendly  hand, 
Prepar'd  perchance  to  leave  thy  native  land  ?  470 

Or  fly'st  thou  now  ?     What  hopes  can  Troy  retain, 
Thy  matchless  son,  her  guard  and  glory,  slain  ?  " 

The  king,  alarm'd  :  "  Say  what,  and  whence  thou  art, 
Who  search  the  sorrows  of  a  parent's  heart, 
And  know  so  well  how  godlike  Hector  died."'  475 

Thus  Priam  spoke,  and  Hermes  thus  replied: 

"  You  tempt  me,  father,  and  with  pity  touch : 
On  this  sad  subject  you  enquire  too  much. 
Oft  have  these  eyes  the  godlike  Hector  view'd 
In  glorious  fight,  with  Grecian  blood  embru'd :  480 

1  saw  him  when,  like  Jove,  his  flames  he  toss'd 
On  thousand  ships,  and  wither'd  half  a  host : 
I  saw,  but  help'd  not ;  stern  Achilles'  ire 
Forbade  assistance,  and  enjoy 'd  the  fire. 
For  him  T  serve,  of  Myrmidonian  race  ;  485 

One  ship  convey'd  us  from  our  native  place ; 
Polyctor  is  my  sire,  an  honour'd  name, 
Old,  like  thyself,  and  not  unknown  to  fame ; 
Of  sev'n  his  sons,  by  whom  the  lot  was  cast 
To  serve  our  prince,  it  fell  on  me  the  last.  490 

To  watch  this  quarter  m}-"  adventure  falls  ; 
For  with  the  morn  the  Greeks  attack  your  walls ; 


108  POPE'S    ILIAD 

Sleepless  they  sit,  impatient  to  engage, 

And  scarce  their  rulers  check  their  martial  rage." 

"  If  then  thou  art  of  stern  Pelicles'  train  "  495 

(The  mournful  monarch  thus  rejoin'd  again), 
"  Ah,  tell  me  truly,  where,  oh !  where  are  laid 
My  son's  dear  relics  ?  what  befalls  him  dead  ? 
Have  dogs  dismember'd  on  the  naked  plains, 
Or  yet  unmangled  rest  his  cold  remains  ?  "  500 

"  0  favour'd  of  the  skies  ! "  thus  answer'd  then 
The  pow'r  that  mediates  between  gods  and  men, 
"  Xor  dogs  nor  vultures  have  thy  Hector  rent, 
But  whole  he  lies,  neglected  in  the  tent : 
This  the  twelfth  ev'ning  since  he  rested  there,  505 

Untouch'd  by  worms,  untainted  by  the  air. 
Still  as  Aurora's  ruddy  beam  is  spread, 
Kound  his  friend's  tomb  Achilles  drags  the  dead ; 
Yet  undisfigur'd,  or  in  limb  or  face. 
All  fresh  he  lies,  with  ev'ry  living  grace,  510 

Majestical  in  death!     No  stains  are  found 
O'er  all  the  corse,  and  clos'd  is  ev'ry  wound ; 
Tho'  many  a  wound  they  gave.     Some  heav'nly  care, 
Some  hand  divine,  preserves  him  ever  fair : 
Or  all  the  host  of  heav'n,  to  whom  he  led  515 

A  life  so  grateful,  still  regard  him  dead." 

Thus  spoke  to  Priam  the  celestial  guide, 


BOOK  xxiv  109 

And  joyful  thus  the  royal  sire  replied  : 
"  Bless'd  is  the  man  who  pays  the  gods  above 
The  constant  tribute  of  respect  and  love  !  520 

Those  who  inhabit  the  Olympian  bow'r 
^ly  son  forgot  not,  in  exalted  pow'r ; 
*  And  heav'n,  that  ev'ry  virtue  bears  in  mind, 
Ev'n  to  the  ashes  of  the  just  is  kind. 
But  thou,  0  gen'rous  youth !  this  goblet  take,  525 

A  pledge  of  gratitude  for  Hector's  sake ; 
And  while  the  fav'ring  gods  our  steps  survey, 
Safe  to  Pelides'  tent  conduct  my  way." 

To  whom  the  latent  god :  ''  0  king,  forbear 
To  tempt  my  youth,  for  apt  is  youth  to  err  :  530 

But  can  I,  absent  from  my  prince's  sight, 
Take  gifts  in  secret,  that  must  shun  the  light  ? 
What  from  our  master's  int'rest  thus  we  draw 
Is  but  a  licens'd  theft  that  'scapes  the  law. 
Kespecting  him,  my  soul  abjures  th'  offence  ;  535 

And,  as  the  crime,  I  dread  the  consequence. 
Thee,  far  as  Argos,  pleas'd  I  could  convey ; 
Guard  of  thy  life,  and  partner  of  thy  way : 
On  thee  attend,  thy  safet}'  to  maintain, 
O'er  pathless  forests,  or  the  roaring  maim^^,,****^        54a 

He  said,  then  took  the  chariot  at  a  bound. 
And  snatch'd  the  reins,  and  whirl'd  the  lash  around : 


110  POPE^S    ILIAD 

Before  th'  inspiring  god  that  urg'd  them  on 

The  coursers  fly,  with  spirit  not  their  own. 

And  now  they  reach'd  the  naval  walls,  and  found     545 

The  guards  repasting,  while  the  bowls  go  round : 

On  these  the  virtue  of  his  wand  he  tries, 

And  pours  deep  slumber  on  their  watchful  eyes : 

Then  heav'd  the  massy  gates,  remov'd  the  bars, 

And  o'er  the  trenches  led  the  rolling  cars.  55c 

Unseen,  thro'  all  the  hostile  camp  they  went, 

And  now  approach'd  Pelides'  lofty  tent." 

Of  fir  the  roof  was  rais'd,  and  cover'd  o'er 

With  reeds  collected  from  the  marshy  shore ; 

And,  fenc'd  with  palisades,  a  hall  of  state  555 

(The  work  of  soldiers),  where  the  hero  sate. 

Large  was  the  door,  whose  well-compacted  strength 

A  solid  pine-tree  barr'd  of  wond'rous  length ; 

Scarce  three  strong  Greeks  could  lift  its  mighty  weight, 

But  great  Achilles  singly  clos'd  the  gate.  560 

This  Hermes  (such  the  pow'r  of  gods)  set  wide ; 

Then  swift  alighted  the  celestial  guide. 

And  thus,  reveal'd :  "  Hear,  prince  !  and  understand 

Thou  ow'st  thy  guidance  to  no  mortal  hand ; 

Hermes  I  am,  descended  from  above,  565 

The  king  of  arts,  the  messenger  of  Jove. 

Farewell :  to  shun  Achilles'  sight  I  fly  ; 


BOOK   XXIV  111 

Uncommon  are  such  favours  of  the  sky, 

Nor  stand  confess'd  to  frail  mortality. 

Now  fearless  enter,  and  prefer  thy  pray'rs ;  370 

Adjure  him  by  his  father's  silver  hairs, 

His  son,''  bis  mother !  urge  him  to  bestow 

AYhatever  pity  that  stern  heart  can  know."^- 

Thus  having  said,  he  vanish'd  from  his  eyes, 
And  in  a  moment  shot  into  the  skies :  575 

The  king,  confirm'd  from  heav'n,  alighted  there, 
And  left  his  aged  herald  on  the  car. 
With  solemn  pace  thro'  various  rooms  he  went. 
And  found  Achilles  in  his  inner  tent : 
There  sate  the  hero ;  Alcimus  the  brave,  580 

And  great  Automedori,  attendance  gave; 
These  serv'd  his  person  at  the  royal  feast; 
Around,  at  awful  distance,  stood  the  rest. 

Unseen  by  these,  the  king  his  entry  made ; 
And,  prostrate  now  before  Achilles  laid,  585 

Sudden°  (a  venerable  sight!)  appears; 
Embrac'd  his  knees,  and  bath'd  his  hands  in  tears ; 
Those  direful  hands  his  kisses  press'd,  embru'd 
Ev'n  with  the  best,  the  dearest  of  his  blood ! 

As  when  a  wretch  (who,  conscious  of  his  crime,     590 
Pursu'd  for  murder  flies  his  native  clime) 
Just  gains  some  frontier,  breathless,  pale,  amaz"d! 


112  POPE^S    ILIAD 

All  gaze,  all  wonder:  thus  Achilles  gaz'd: 

Thus  stood  th'  attendants  stupid  with  surprise : 

All  mute,  yet  seem'd  to  question  with  their  eyes :     595 

Each  look'd  on  other,  none  the  silence  broke. 

Till  thus  at  last  the  kingly  suppliant  spoke: 

"  Ah°  think,  thou  f avour'd  of  the  pow'rs  divine ! 
Think  of  thy  father's  age,  and  pity  mine ! 
In  me,  that  father's  rev'rend  image  trace,  600 

Those  silver  hairs,  that  venerable  face ; 
His  trembling  limbs,  his  helpless  person,  see ! 
In  all  my  equal,  but  in  misery ! 
Yet  now,  perhaps,  some  turn  of  human  fate 
Expels  him  helpless  from  his  peaceful  state;  605 

Think,  from  some  pow'rful  foe  thou  see'st  him  fly. 
And  beg  protection  with  a  feeble  cry. 
Yet  still  one  comfort  in  his  soul  may  rise ; 
He  hears  his  son  still  lives  to  glad  his  eyes; 
And,  hearing,  still  may  hoj)e  a  better  day  610 

May  send  him  thee,  to  chase  that  foe  away. 
Xo  comfort  to  my  griefs,  no  hopes  remain. 
The  best,  the  bravest,  of  my  sons  are  slain ! 
Yet  what  a  race !  ere  Greece  to  Ilion  came, 
The  pledge  of  many  a  lov'd  and  loving  dame!  615 

Nineteen  one  mother  bore  —  dead,  all  are  dead ! 
How  oft,  alas !  has  wretched  Priam  bled ! 


^OOK    XXIV  113 

Still  one  was  left,  their  loss  to  recompense ; 

His  father's  hope,  his  country's  last  defence. 

Him  too  thy  rage  has  slain !  beneath  th}^  steel,  620 

Unhappy,  in  his  country's  cause,  he  fell ! 

For  him  thro'  hostile  camps  I  bent  my  way. 

For  him  thus  prostrate  at  thy  feet  I  lay ; 

Large  gifts,  proportion' cl  to  thy  wrath,  I  bear: 

Oh,  hear  the  wretched,  and  the  gods  revere!  625 

Think  of  thy  father,  and  this  face  behold ! 

See  him  in  me,  as  helpless  and  as  old; 

Tho'  not  so  wretched:  there  he  yields  to  me. 

The  first  of  men  in  sov' reign  misery : 

Thus  forc'd  to  kneel,  thus  grov'ling  to  embrace         630 

The  scourge  and  ruin  of  my  realm  and  race : 

Suppliant  my  children's  murd'rer  to  implore. 

And  kiss  those  hands  yet  reeking  with  their  gore !  " 

These  words  soft  pity  in  the  chief  inspire, 
Touch'd  with  the  dear  rememb'rance  of  his  sire.        635 
Then  with  his  hand  (as  prostrate  still  he  lay) 
The  old  man's  cheek  he  gently  turn'd  away. 
Now  each  by  turns  indulg'd  the  gush  of  woe; 
And  now  the  mingled  tides  together  flow : 
This  low  on  earth,  that  gently  bending  o'er,  640 

A  father  one,  and  one  a  son  deplore : 
But  great  Achilles  diff'rent  passions  rend, 


114  POPE'S   ILIAD 

And  now  his  sire  he  mourns,  and  now  his  friend- 
Th'  infectious  softness  thro'  the  heroes  ran ;  ; 

One  universal  solemn  show'r  began;  645 

They  bore  as  heroes,  but  they  felt  as  man. 

Satiate  at  length  with  unavailing  woes, 
From  the  high  throne  divine  Achilles  rose ; 
The  rev'rend  monarch  by  the  hand  he  rais'd; 
On  his  white  beard  and  form  majestic  gaz'd,  650 

Not  unrelenting :  then  serene  began 
With  words  to  soothe  the  miserable  m_an  » 

"  Alas  !  what  weight  of  anguish  hast*^^  known. 
Unhappy  prince !  thus  guardless  and  alone 
To  pass  thro'  foes,  and  thus  undaunted  face  655 

The  man  whose  fury  has  destroy'd  thy  race! 
Heav'n  sure  has  arm'd  thee  with  a  heart  of  steel, 
A  strength  proportion'd  to  the  woes  you  feel. 
Rise  then :  let  reason  mitigatejour  care : 
To  mourn  avails  not :  man  is  born  to  bear.  660 

Such  is,  alas !  the  gods'  severe  decree ; 
They,  only  they  are  blest,  and  only  free.  ^^^ 

Two  urns  by  Jove's  high  throne  have  ever  stood, 
The  source  of  evil  one,  and  one  of  good ; 
From  thence  the  cup  of  mortal  man  he  fills,  665 

Blessings  to  these,  to  those  distributes  ills : 


) 


To  most  he  mingles  both :  the  wretch  decreed 


BOOK    XXIV  115 

To  taste  the  bad  unmix'd,  is  curs' d  indeed : 

Pursu'd  by  wrongs,  by  meagre  famine  driv'n, 

He  wanders,  outcast  both  of  earth  and  heav'n.  670 

The  happiest  tast^  not  happiness  sincere, 

But  find  the  cordial  draught  is  dash'd  with  care.^ 

\Mio  more  than  Peleus  shone  in  wealth  and  pow'r  ? 

\Yhat  stars  concurring  bless'd  his  natal  hour ! 

A  realm,  a  goddess,  to  his  wishes  giv'n,  675 

Grac'd  by  the  gods  with  all  the  gifts  of  heav'n ! 

One  evil,  yet,  o'ertakes  his  latest  day ; 

No  race  succeeding  to  imperial  sway : 

An  only  son !  and  he  (alas  I)  ordain'd 

To  fall  untimely  in  a  foreign  land !  680 

See  him,  in  Troy,  the  pious  care  decline 

Of  his  weak  age,  to  live  the  curse  of  thine ! 

Thou  too,  old  man,  hast  happier  days  beheld; 

In  riches  once,  in  children  once  excell'd; 

Extended  Phrygia  own'd  thy  ample  reign,  685 

And  all  fair  Lesbos"  blissful  seats  contain, 

And  all  wide  Hellespont's  unmeasur'd  main. 

But  since  the  god  his  hand  has  pleas'd  to  turn, 

And  fill  thy  measure  from  his  bitter  urn, 

What  sees  the  sun  but  hapless  heroes'  falls  ?  690 

War  and  the  blood  of  men  surround  th}^  walls ! 

What  must  be,  must  be.     Bear  thy  lot,  nor  shed 


116  POPE'S    ILIAD 

These  unavailing  sorrows  o'er  the  dead ; 

Thou  canst  not  call  him  from  the  Stygian  shore, 

But  thou,  alas !  niayst  live  to  suffer  more  !  "  695 

To  whom  the  king :  "  O  favour's,  of  the  skies ! 
Here  let  me  grow  to  earth !  since  Hector  lies 
On  the  bare  beach,  depriv'd  of  obsequies. 
Oh,  give  me  Hector  I  to  my  eyes  restore 
His  corse,  and  take  the  gifts :  I  ask  no  more  !  700 

Thou,  as  thou  mayst,  these  boundless  stores  enjoy; 
Safe  mayst  thou  sail,  and  turn  thy  wrath  from  Troy ; 
So  shall  thy  pitj^  and  forbearance  give 
A  weak  old  man  to  see  the  light  and  live !  " 

"  Move  me  no  more,"  Achilles  thus  replies,  705 

While  kindling  anger  sparkled  in  his  eyes, 
"  Nor  seek  by  tears  my  steady  soul  to  bend. 
To  yield  thy  Hector  I  myself  intend : 
For  know,  from  Jove  my  goddess-mother  came 
(Old  Ocean's  daughter,  silver-footed  dame) ;  "     710 

Nor  com'st  thou  but  by  heav'n;  nor  com'st  alone; 
Some  god  impels  with  courage  not  thy  own : 
No  human  hand  the  weighty  gates  unbarr'd, 
Nor  could  the  boldest  of  our  youth  have  dar'd 
To  pass  our  out-Avorks,  or  elude  the  guard.  715 

Cease;  lest,  neglectful  of  high  Jove's  command, 
I  show  thee,  king !  thou  tread'st  on  hostile  land ; 


BOOK    XXIV  117 

Release  my  knees,  thy  suppliant  arts  give  o'er, 
And  shake  the  purpose  of  my  soul  no  more." 

The  sire  obey'd  him,  trembling  and  o'eraw'd.         720 
Achilles,  like  a  lion,  rush'd  abroad ; 
Automedon  and  Alcimus  attend. 
Whom  most  he  honour'd  since  he  lost  his  friend ; 
These  to  unyoke  the  mules  and  horses  went, 
And  led  the  hoary  herald  to  the  tent :  725 

Next,  heap'd  on  high,  the  num'rous  presents  bear 
(Great  Hector's  ransom)  from  the  polish'd  car. 
Two  splendid  mantles,  and  a  carpet  spread. 
They  leave,  to  cover  and  in  wrap  the  dead: 
Then  call  the  handmaids,  with  assistant  toil  730 

To  wash  the  body,  and  anoint  with  oil. 
Apart  from  Priam ;  lest  th'  unhappy  sire, 
Provok'd  to  passion,  once  more  rouse  to  ire 
The  stern  Pelicles ;  and  nor  sacred  age 
Xor  Jove's  command  should  check  the  rising  rage.    735 
This  done,  the  garments  o'er  the  corse  they  spread; 
Achilles  lifts  it  to  the  f un'ral  bed : 
Then,  while  the  body  on  the  car  they  laid. 
He  groans,  and  calls  on  lov'd  Patroclus'  shade : 

"  If,  in  that  gloom  which  never  light  must  know.  740 
The  deeds  of  mortals  touch  the  ghosts  below ; 
0  friend !  forgive  me,  that  I  thus  fulfil 


118  POPE^S    ILIAD 

(Restoring  Hector)  heaven's  miquestion'd  will. 

The  gifts  the  father  gave,  be  ever  thine, 

To  grace  thy  nianes,°  and  adorn  thy  shrine."  745 

He  said,  and,  ent'ring,  took  his  seat  of  state, 
Where  full  before  him  rev'rend  Priam  sate : 
To  whom,  compos'd,  the  godlike  chief  begun : 
"  Lo  !  to  thy  pray'r  restor'd,  thy  breathless  son  ; 
Extended  on  the  fun'ral  couch  he  lies  ;  .  750 

And,  soon  as  morning  paints  the  eastern  skies. 
The  sight  is  granted  to  thy  longing  eyes. 
But  now  the  peaceful  hours  of  sacred  night 
Demand  refection,  and  to  rest  invite: 
Nor  thou,  0  father  !  thus  consum'd  with  woe,  755 

The  common  cares  that  nourish  life  forego. 
Xot  thus  did  Niobe,°  of  form  divine, 
A  parent  once,  whose  sorrows  equall'd  thine : 
Six  youthful  sons,  as  many  blooming  maids, 
In  one  sad  day  beheld  the  Stygian  shades  :  760 

Those  by  Apollo's  silver  bow  were  slain. 
These  Cynthia's"  arrows  stretch'd  upon  the  plain. 
So  was  her  pride  chastis'd  by  wrath  divine, 
Who  match'd  her  own  with  bright  Latona's  line ; 
But  two  the  goddess,  twelve  the  queen  enjoy'd;         765 
Those  boasted  twelve  th'  avenging  two  destroy'd. 
Steep'd  in  their  blood,  and  in  t'he  dust  outspread, 


BOOK   XXIV  119 

Nine  days  neglected  lay  expos'd  the  dead ; 

Xone  by  to  weep  them,  to  inhume°  them  none 

(For  Jove  had  turned  the  nation  all  to  stone)  ;  770 

The  gods  themselves,  at  length,  relenting,  gave 

Th'  unhappy  race  the  honours  of  a  grave. 

Herself  °  a  rock  (for  such  was  heav'n's  high  will) 

Thro'  deserts  wild  now  pours  a  weeping  rill ; 

Where  round  the  bed  whence  Achelolis  springs,        775 

The  wat'ry  fairies  dance  in  mazy  rings  : 

There,  high  on  Sipylus's  shady  brow. 

She  stands,  her  own  sad  monument  of  woe ; 

The  rock  for  ever  lasts,  the  tears  for  ever  flow. 

Such  griefs,  0  king  !  have  other  parents  known :       7S0 

Eemember  theirs,  and  mitigate  thy  own. 

The  care  of  heav'n  thy  Hector  has  appear'd ; 

Xor  shall  he  lie  unwept  and  uninterr'd ; 

Soon  may  thy  aged  cheeks  in  tears  be  drown'd, 

And  all  the  eyes  of  Ilion  stream  around."  785 

He  said,  and,  rising,  chose  the  victim  ewe 
With  silver  fleece,  which  his  attendants  slew. 
The  limbs  they  sever  from  the  reeking  hide, 
With  skill  prepare  them,  and  in  parts  divide : 
Each  on  the  coals  the  sep'rate  morsels  lays,  790 

And  hasty  snatches  from  the  rising  blaze. 
With  bread  the  giitt'ring  canisters  they  load, 


120  POPE'S    ILIAD 

Which  round  the  board  Automedon  bestow'd : 

The  chief  himself  to  each  his  portion  plac'd, 

And  each  indulging  shar'd  in  sweet  repast.  795 

When  now  the  rage  of  hunger  was  repress'd, 

The  wond'ring  hero  eyes  his  royal  guest ; 

No  less  the  royal  guest  the  hero  eyes, 

His  godlike  aspect  and  majestic  size ; 

Here  youthful  grace  and  noble  fire  engage,  800 

And  there  the  mild  benevolence  of  age. 

Thus  gazing  long,  the  silence  neither  broke 

(A  solemn  scene  !)  ;  at  length  the  father  spoke : 

"  Permit  me  now,  belov'd  of  Jove,  to  steep 
My  careful  temples  in  the  dew"  of  sleep :  805 

For  since  the  day  that  number 'd  with  the  dead 
My  hapless  son,  the  dust  has  been  my  bed ; 
Soft  sleep  a  stranger  to  my  weeping  eyes. 
My  only  food,  my  sorrows  and  my  sighs  ! 
Till  now,  encourag'd  by  the  grace  you  give,  810 

I  share  thy  banquet,  and  consent  to  live."/ 

With  that,  Achilles  bade  prepare  the  be"^ 
With  purple  soft  and  shaggy  carpets  spread ; 
Forth,  by  the  flaming  lights,  they  bend  their  way. 
And  place  the  couches,  and  the  cov'rings  lay.  815 

Then  he  :  "  Now,  father,  sleep,  but  sleep  not  here, 
Consult  tiiy  safety,  and  forgive  my  fear, 


BOOK    XXIV  121 

Lest  any  Argive  (at  this  liour  awake, 

To  ask  our  counsel  or  our  orders  take), 

ApproacMng  sudden  to  our  open  tent,  820 

Perchance  behold  thee,  and  our  grace  prevent. 

Should  such  report  thy  honour'd  person  here. 

The  king  of  men  the  ransom  might  defer. 

But  say  with  speed,  if  aught  of  thy  desire 

Remains  unask'd,  what  time  the  rites  require  825 

T'  inter  thy  Hector.     For,  so  long  we  stay 

Our  slaught'ring  arm,  and  bid  the  hosts  obey." 

"  If  then  thy  will  permit,"  the  monarch  said, 
"  To  finish  all  due  honours  to  the  dead. 
This,  of  thy  grace,  accord :  to  thee  are  known  830 

The  fears  of  Ilion,  clos'd  within  her  town ; 
And  at  what  distance  from  our  walls  aspire 
The  hills  of  Ide,  and  forests  for  the  fire. 
Nine  days  to  vent  our  sorrows  I  request. 
The  tenth  shall  see  the  fun'ral  and  the  feast ;  835 

The  next,  to  raise  his  monument  be  giv'n ; 
The  twelfth  we  war,  if  war  be  doom'd  by  heav'n ! " 

"This  thy  request,"  replied  the  chief,  "enjoy : 
Till  then  our  arms  suspend  the  fall  of  Troy." 
Then  gave  his  hand  at  parting,  to  prevent  840 

The  old  man's  fears,  and  turn'd  within  the  tent ; 
Where  fair  Briseis,  bright  in  blooming  charms, 


122  POPE^S    ILIAD 

Expects  her  hero  with  desiring  arms. 

But  in  the  porch  the  king  and  herald  rest, 

Sad  dreams  of  care  yet  wand'ring  in  their  breast.      845 

Now  gods  and  men  the  gifts  of  sleep  partake ; 
Industrious  Hermes  only  was  awake, 
The  king's  return  revolving  in  his  mind, 
To  pass  the  ramparts  and  the  watch  to  blind. 
The  pow'r  descending  hover'd  o'er  his  head,  850 

And,  "  Sleep'st  thou,  father  ?  "  (thus  the  vision  said) 
"  Now  dost  thou  sleep,  when  Hector  is  restor'd  ? 
Kor  fear  the  Grecian  foes  or  Grecian  lord  ? 
Thy  presence  here  should  stern  Atrides  see. 
Thy  still-surviving  sons  may  sue  for  thee  ;  855 

JNIay  offer  all  thy  treasures  yet  contain. 
To  spare  thy  age  ;  and  offer  all  in  vain." 

Wak'd  with  the  word,  the  trembling  sire  arose. 
And  rais'd  his  friend  :  the  god  before  him  goes  : 
He  joins  the  mules,  directs  them  with  his  hand,        860 
And  moves  in  silence  thro'  the  hostile  land. 
When  now  to  Xanthus'  yellow  stream  they  drove 
(Xanthus,  immortal  progeny  of  Jove), 
The  winged  deity  forsook  their  view, 
And  in  a  moment  to  Olympus  flew.  865 

Now  shed  Aurora  round  her  saffron  ray. 
Sprung  thro'  the  gates  of  light,  and  gave  the  day. 


BOOK   XXIV  123 

Charged  with  tlieir  mournful  load,  to  Ilion  go 

The  sage  and  king,  majestically  slow. 

Cassandra  first  beholds,  from  Ilion's  spire,  870 

The  sad  procession  of  her  hoary  sire ; 

Then,  as  the  pensive  pomp  advanc'd  more  near 

(Her  breathless  brother  stretch'd  upon  the  bier), 

A  show'r  of  tears  o'erflows  her  beauteous  eyes. 

Alarming  thus  all  Ilion  with  her  cries :  875 

"  Turn  here  your  steps,  and  here  your  eyes  employ, 
Ye  wretched  daughters  and  ye  sons  of  Troy  ! 
If  e'er  ye  rush'd  in  crowds,  with  vast  delight. 
To  hail  your  hero  glorious  from  the  fight ; 
Now  meet  him  dead,  and  let  your  sorrows  flow !        880 
Your  common  triumph  and  your  common  woe." 

In  thronging  crowds  they  issue  to  the  plains, 
Xor  man  nor  Avoman  in  the  walls  remains : 
In  ev'ry  face  the  self-same  grief  is  shown. 
And  Troy  sends  forth  one  universal  groan.  885 

At  Scsea's  gates,  they  meet  the  mourning  wain, 
Hang  on  the  wheels,  and  grovel  round  the  slain. 
The  wife  and  mother,  frantic  with  despair, 
Kiss  his  pale  cheek,  and  rend  their  scatter'd  hair ; 
Thus  wildly  wailing,  at  the  gates  they  lay ;  890 

And  there  had  sigh'd  and  sorrow'd  out  the  day ; 
But  godlike  Priam  from  the  chariot  rose ; 


124  POPE'S    ILIAD 

"  Forbear,"  he  cried,  "  this  violence  of  woes  ; 

First  to  the  palace  let  the  car  proceed, 

Then  pour  your  boundless  sorrows  o'er  the  dead."    895 

The  waves  of  people  at  his  w^ord  divide ; 
Slow  rolls  the  chariot  thro'  the  following  tide : 
Ev'n  to  the  palace  the  sad  pomp  they  wait : 
They  weep,  and  place  him  on  the  bed  of  state. 
A  melancholy  choir  attend  around,  900 

AVith  plaintive  sighs  and  music's  solemn  sound : 
Alternately  they  sing,  alternate  flow 
Th'  obedient  tears,  melodious  in  their  woe ; 
While  deeper  sorrows  groan  from  each  full  heart, 
And  nature  speaks  at  ev'ry  pause  of  art.  905 

First°  to  the  corse  the  weeping  consort  flew ; 
Around  his  neck  her  milk-w^hite  arms  she  threw : 
And,  "  0  my  Hector  !  0  my  lord !  "  she  cries, 
"  Snatch'd  in  thy  bloom  from  these  desiring  eyes ! 
Thou  to  the  dismal  realms  for  ever  gone !  910 

And  I  abandon' d,  desolate,  alone  ! 
An  only  son,  once  comfort  of  our  pains, 
Sad  product  now  of  hapless  love,  remains  ! 
Never  to  manly  age  that  son  shall  rise, 
Or  with  increasing  graces  glad  my  eyes;  915 

For  Ilion  now  (her  great  defender  slain) 
Shall  sink,  a  smoking  ruin,  on  the  plain. 


BOOK   XXIV  125 

Who  now  protects  lier  wives  with  guardian  care  ? 

Who  saves  her  infants  from  the  rage  of  war  ? 

Xow  hostile  fleets  must  waft  those  infants  o'er  920 

(Those  wives  must  wait  'em)  to  a  foreign  shore ! 

Thou  too,  my  son !  to  barb'rous  climes  shalt  go, 

The  sad  companion  of  thy  mother's  woe ; 

Driv'n  hence  a  slave  before  the  victor's  sword, 

Condemn'd  to  toil  for  some  inhuman  lord :  925 

Or  else  some  Greek,  whose  father  press'd  the  plain. 

Or  son,  or  brother,  by  great  Hector  slain, 

In  Hector's  blood  his  vengeance  shall  enjoy. 

And  hurl  thee  headlong  from  the  tow'rs  of  Troy. 

For  th}^  stern  father  never  spar'd  a  foe :  930 

Thence  all  these  tears,  and  all  this  scene  of  woe ! 

Thence  many  evils  his  sad  parents  bore, 

His  parents  many,  but  his  consort  more. 

Why°  gav'st  thou  not  to  me  thy  dying  hand  ? 

And  why  receiv'd  not  I  thy  last  command  ?  935 

Some  word  thou  wouldst  have  spoke,  which,  sadly  dear, 

My  soul  might  keep,  or  utter  with  a  tear ; 

Which  never,  never  could  be  lost  in  air, 

Fix'd  in  my  heart,  and  oft  repeated  there  I " 

Thus  to  her  weeping  maids  she  makes  her  moan  :  940 
Her  weeping  handmaids  echo  groan  for  groan. 

The  mournful  mother  next  sustains  her  part : 


126  POPU'S    ILIAD 

"  0  thou,  the  best,  the  dearest  of  my  heart ! 

Of  all  my  race  thou  most  by  heav'n  approv'd, 
And  by  th'  immortals  ev'n  in  death  belov'd !  945 

While  all  my  other  sons  in  barb'rous  bands 
Achilles  bound,  and  sold  to  foreign  lands, 
This  felt  no  chains,  but  went,  a  glorious  ghost, 
Pree  and  a  hero,  to  the  Stygian  coast. 
Sentenc'd,  ^tis  true,  by  his  inhuman  doom,  950 

Thy  noble  corse  was  dragg'd  around  the  tomb 
(The  tomb  of  him  thy  warlike  arm  had  slain) ; 
Ungen'rous  insult,  impotent  and  vain  ! 
Yet  glow'st  thou  fresh  with  ev'ry  living  grace, 
No  mark  of  pain,  or  violence  of  face ;  955 

Eosy  and  fair !  as  Phcebus'  silver  bow 
Dismiss'd  thee  gently  to  the  shades  below ! " 

Thus  spoke  the  dame,  and  melted  into  tears. 
Sad  Helen  next  in  pomp  of  grief  appears : 
Fast  from  the  shining  sluices  of  her  eyes  960 

Fall  the  round  crystal  drops,  while  thus  she  cries  : 
"  Ah,°  dearest  friend!  in  whom  the  gods  had  join'd 
The  mildest  manners  with  the  bravest  Qiind ! 
Now  twice  ten  years  (unhaj)py  years)  are  o'er 
Since  Paris  brought  me  to  the  Trojan  shore  965 

(Oh  had  I  perish'd,  ere  that  form  divine 
Seduc'd  this  soft,  this  easy  heart  of  mine !) ; 


BOOK   XXtV  127 

Yet  was  it  ne'er  my  fate  from  thee  to  find 

A  deed  ungentle,  or  a  word  unkind : 

When  others  curs'd  the  auth'ress  of  their  woe,  970 

Thy  pity  check'd  my  sorrows  in  their  flow : 

If  some  proud  brother  ey'd  me  with  disdain, 

Or  scornful  sister  with  her  sweeping  train. 

Thy  gentle  accents  soften'd  all  my  pain. 

For  thee  I  mourn ;  and  mourn  myself  in  thee,  975 

The  wretched  source  of  all  this  misery ! 

The  fate  I  caus'd,  for  ever  I  bemoan ; 

Sad  Helen  has  no  friend,  now  thou  art  gone ! 

Thro'  Troy's  wide  streets  abandon'd  shall  I  roam, 

In  Troy  deserted,  as  abhorr'd  at  home  I  "  9S0 

So  spoke  the  fair,  with  sorrow-streaming  eye : 
Distressful  beauty  rhelts  each  stander-by ; 
On  all  around  th'  infectious  sorrow  grows ; 
But  Priam  check'd  the  torrent  as  it  rose : 
"Perform,  ye  Trojans  I  what  the  rites  require,  985 

And  fell  the  forests  for  a  fun'ral  pyre  I 
Twelve  days  nor  foes  nor  secret  ambush  dread ; 
Achilles  grants  these  honours  to  the  dead." 

He  spoke ;  and  at  his  word  the  Trojan  train 
Their  mules  and  oxen  harness  to  the  wain,  99a 

Pour  thro'  the  gates,  and,  fell'd  from  Ida's  crown, 
Poll  back  the  gathered  forests  to  the  town. 


128  POPE'S   ILIAD 

These  toils  continue  nine  succeeding  days, 

And  high  in  air  a  sylvan  structure  raise. 

But  when  the  tenth  fair  morn  began  to  shine,  995 

Forth  to  the  pile  was  borne  the  man  divine, 

And  plac'd  aloft :  while  all,  with  streaming  eyes. 

Beheld  the  flames  and  rolling  smokes  arise. 

"^DOOiTas  Aurora,  daughter  of  the  dawn, 

With  rosy  lustre  streak'd  the  dewy  lawn,  1000 

Again  the  mournful  crowds  surround  the  pyre. 

And  quench  with  wine  the  yet-remaining  fire. 

The  snowy  bones  his  friends  and  brothers  place 

(With  tears  collected)  in  a  golden  vase ; 

The  golden  vase  in  purple  palls  they  roll'd,  1005 

Of  softest  texture  and  inwrought  with  gold. 

Last,  o'er  the  urn  the  sacred  earth  they  spread. 

And  rais'd  the  tomb,  memorial  of  the  dead 

(Strong  guards  and  spies,  till  all  the  rites  were  done, 

Watch'd  from  the  rising  to  the  setting  sun).  loio 

All  Troy  then  moves  to  Priam's  court  again, 

A  solemn,  silent,  melancholy  train  : 

Assembled  there,  from  pious  toil  they  rest. 

And  sadly  shar'd  the  last  sepulchral  feast. 

Such°  honours  Ilion  to  her  hero  paid,  1015 

And  peaceful  slept  the  mighty  Hector's  shade. 


NOTES 


BOOK  I 

Iliad.  Poem  about  Ilion,  or  Troy.  A  form  of  title  often 
given  to  an  epic  poem.  Cf.  ^neid,  Bolliad,  Columbiad,  Dun- 
ciad,  etc. 

1.  Achilles'  wrath.  The  anger  of  Achilles  is  proposed  by 
the  poet  himself  as  the  subject  of  his  poem.  Mijviv,  meaning 
wrath,  is  tne  first  word  of  the  poem.  The  poet  begins  with  the 
wrath  of  Achilles,  because  it  gave  a  decided  impulse  to  the 
events  of  the  war  and  hastened  the  catastrophe.  It  brought 
upon  the  Greeks  a  train  of  disasters,  ending  with  the  death  of 
Patroclus,  the  beloved  friend  of  Achilles,  which  drew  him  forth 
from  his  retirement,  to  exact  a  bloody  vengeance  from  Hector 
and  the  Trojans.  The  purpose  of  Jove  was  to  bring  about  the 
destruction  of  Troy  by  the  fall  of  Hector,  etc.  And  the  will  of 
Jove  was  accomplishing  from  the  time  when  Atrides,  King  of 
Men,  and  the  divine  Achilles  parted,  having  quarrelled.  (Eelton. ) 

2.  goddess  :  the  muse.  The  poet,  inspired  by  the  gods,  in- 
vokes the  aid  of  the  Epic  Muse.  The  "nine  muses"  are  not 
mentioned  by  Homer,  although  the  muses  appear  in  the  plural 
in  several  places.     According  to  Hesiod  they  are  the  daughters 

K  129 


130  NOTES 

of  Zeus  and  Memory,  "a  transiDarent  allegory  of  the  inspiration 
needed  by  a  poet  who  does  not  write,  but  has  to  compose  and 
recite  his  song  by  heart."     (Leaf.) 

3.  Pluto.     The  god  of  the  underworld,  the  abode  of  the  dead. 

4.  reign.     The  territory  of  a  sovereign,  realm. 

5.  unburied.  The  souls  of  the  unburied  dead  were  supposed 
to  wander  upon  the  banks  of  the  Styx. 

"Behold  a  ghastly  band, 

Each  a  torch  in  his  hand ! 

Those  are  Grecian  ghosts,  that  in  battle 

were  slain, 

And  unburied  remain 

Inglorious  on  the  plain." 

—  Alexander's  Feast. 

7.  Atrides.  Agamemnon,  son  of  Atreus ;  so  Achilles  is 
called  Pelides,  son  of  Peleus  ;  and  Diomedes  is  called  Tydides, 
son  of  Tydeus. 

8.  Observe  the  change  of  metre  in  the  introduction  of  this 
Alexandrine. 

11.  Latona's  son.  Apollo,  the  tutelary  deity  of  the  Dorians. 
The  Dorians  had  not  at  this  time  become  the  predominant  race 
In  Greece.  Throughout  the  Iliad  Apollo  acts  splendidly  and 
effectively,  but  always  against  the  Greeks,  from  mere  partiality 
to  Hector. 

13.  king  of  men.     Agamemnon. 

13.   rev'rend  priest :  Chryses, 

20.  the  sceptre  and  the  laurel  crown.  The  golden  sceptre 
indicated  that  Chryses  was  the  priest  of  Apollo.     The  laurel 


NOTES  131 

crowu  is  Pope's  substitution  for  '•  tlie  woollen  fillet"  of  Homer, 
which,  wound  round  a  staff,  was  the  mark  of  the  suppliant.  "  It 
is  here  perhaps  the  same  fillet  which  the  priest  usually  wears  on 
his  head  in  sign  of  his  divine  office.  Or  possibly  it  may  even 
be  a  fillet  from  the  head  of  the  god  himself,  and  thus  have  still 
higher  sanctity."     (Leaf.) 

22.   brother-kings.     Agamemnon  and  Menelaus. 

23-30.  Notice  the  art  of  this  speech.  Chryses  comprehen- 
sively addresses  the  army  of  the  Greeks  as  made  up  of  troops 
partly  from  the  kingdoms  and  partly  from  democracies.  As 
priest  of  Apollo  he  prays  that  they  may  obtain  the  blessings 
they  desire  —  the  conquest  of  Troy  and  a  safe  return.  He  then 
names  his  petition,  offers  ransom,  and  bids  them  fear  the  wrath 
of  Apollo  if  they  refuse  his  prayer.  '  •  Thus  he  endeavors  to 
work  by  the  art  of  a*  general  application,  by  religion,  by  interest, 
and  the  insinuation  of  danger." 

28.    Chryseis.     Daughter  of  Chryses. 

30.  Phoebus.  The  bright.  Homer  usually  speaks  of  Phoebus 
Apollo,  but  the  names  are  also  sometimes  separated. 

32.  the  fair.  A  conventional  poetic  expression  common  in 
the  eighteenth  century. 

45.   Argos.   Xotthe  town,  but  the  Peloponnesus.   See  VI.,  189. 

•50.  Chryses  does  not  reply  to  the  insults  of  Agamemnon, 
but  walks  silently  and  sadly  by  the  sea.  Pope  says:  "The 
melancholy  flowing  of  the  verse  admirably  expresses  the  condi- 
tion of  the  mournful  and  deserted  father." 


132  NOTES 

53.  Smintheus.  Literally  Mouse-gocl.  Apollo  was  wor- 
shipped under  this  title  in  the  Troad,  as  at  Smyrna  as  the 
Locust-god.  The  old  explanation  of  the  name  was  that  Apollo 
gained  it  by  ridding  the  land  of  a  plague  of  field-mice.  Mr. 
Andrew  Lang  sees  in  the  title  an  indication  of  the  existence  of 
an  old  tribal  totem  or  family  ancestor.  The  mouse  in  Oriental 
countries  often  personified  plague  and  disease.  Herodotus  as- 
cribes the  destruction  of  the  army  of  Sennacherib  to  an  army 
of  field-mice,  which  came  in  the  night  and  gnawed  the  Assyrian 
bowstrings.  In  1  Sam.  vi.  4  golden  mice  are  offered  by  the 
Philistines  as  a  propitiation  when  visited  by  the  plague.  It  may 
therefore  be  that  the  god  has  this  name  only  in  virtue  of  his 
function  of  bringing  and  removing  pestilence,  of  which  this 
book  of  the  Iliad  is  the  best  instance.  In  that  case  the  appeal 
of  Chryses  gives  him  this  title  with  peculiar  appropriateness. 
(Leaf.) 

54-56.  Cilia  and  Chrysa  are  towns  in  the  south  of  the  Troad, 
on  the  gulf  of  Adramyttium  ;  Tenedos,  an  island  in  the  bay  of 
Troas.    Apollo  had  temples  at  these  places. 

60.  Apollo  was  believed  to  resent  ill  usage  of  his  priests  and* 
that,  too,  in  the  way  here  represented,  viz.,  by  sending  plagues. 

61-68.  The  description  of  Apollo  descending  in  wrath  is  cele- 
brated ;  the  sound  of  the  verse  corresponds  to  the  sense.  Pope 
has  sought  by  the  use  of  onomatopoeia  and  alliteration  to  imi- 
tate the  twang  of  the  silver  bow  and  the  sound  of  the  flight  of  the 
arrows.  Cowper,  in  his  attempt  to  reproduce  the  effect  of  the 
original,  produced  a  singular  line,  for  which  he  felt  it  necessary 
to  apologize  — 


NOTES  133 

"  Clang'd  the  cord 
Dread-sounding,  bounding  on  the  silver  bow." 

66.  around.  Some  editions  read  about.  Milton  was  the 
first  to  use  around  in  the  modern  sense.  Shakespeare  uses 
about;  Pope  prefers  around. 

74.  Juno  (Hera).  The  wife  of  Jupiter  ;  she  sided  with  the 
Greeks.  Coleridge  believed  that  Juno  expressed  the  spirit  of 
conservatism.  She  is  persistent,  obstinate,  acts  from  no  idea, 
but  often  uses  a  superficial  reasoning,  and  refers  to  Fate,  with 
which  she  upbraids  Jupiter. 

Thetis,  daughter  of  Nereus  and  wife  of  Peleus,  was  the 
mother  of  Achilles. 

81-82.    spare  —  war.     Notice  the  muffled  rhyme. 

88.  Hecatomb  means  properly,  as  its  etymology  indicates,  a 
sacrifice  of  a  hundred  oxen  ;  it  is  frequently  used,  however,  to 
mean  a  sacrifice  of  any  sort. 

86.  ' '  It  will  be  noticed  that  the  soothsaying  of  the  Homeric 
army  is  very  far  removed  from  the  elaborate  system  with  which 
we  are  acquainted  in  later  Greece  and  Rome.  The  words  of 
Achilles  show  that  it  was  not  confined  to  the  priestly  office, 
though  the  priest,  from  the  relations  which  he  had  with  his  god, 
was  likely  to  be  specially  favored  with  communications.  In  the 
Odyssey  Odysseus  himself  is  an  interpreter  of  dreams  (XIX., 
535),  and  Helen  explains  omens  from  the  flight  of  birds  (XV., 
172).  Kalchas,  indeed,  seems  to  be  the  only  case  of  an  augur 
who  is  not  heard  of  except  for  his  augurJ^  Helenos,  who  holds 
the  corresponding  position  of  soothsayer  to  the  Trojans,  is  sou 


134  .  NOTES 

of  Priam  ;  we  do  not  hear  that  he  is  a  priest,  and  he  fights  like 
any  hero.  But  indeed  it  is  true  that  the  Homeric  priests  in  no 
case  form  a  caste  apart,  as  they  do  in  most  civilized  communi- 
ties ;  they  generally  fight  with  the  rest." 

89.    aton'd.     Observe  the  original  meaning  :  at  —  one. 

92.  Calchas  the  wise.  Observe  this  Grecian  priest.  He  has 
no  political  power,  and  commands  little  reverence.  In  Aga- 
memnon's treatment  of  him,  as  well  as  Cbryses,  is  seen  the  rela- 
tion of  the  religion  to  the  government.  It  was  neither  master 
nor  slave.  —  E.  P.  P.  "The  Mantis  or  soothsayer,  whose  skill 
was  in  most  cases  supposed  to  be  hereditary,  accompanied  a 
Greek  force  on  all  its  expeditions,  and  no  prudent  general 
would  risk  a  battle  or  engage  in  any  important  enterprise  with- 
out first  ascertaining  from  this  authority  the  will  of  the  gods 
as  shadowed  out  in  certain  appearances  of  the  sacrifice  or  some 
peculiarity  in  the  flight  of  the  birds,  or  some  phenomena  of  the 
heavens." 

117.  blameless.  Pope,  speaking  of  this  adjective,  says:  "It 
is  not  only  applied  to  a  priest,  but  to  one  who,  being  conscious 
of  the  truth,  prepares  with  an  honest  boldness  to  discover  it." 

124.  black-ey'd  maid.  The  Greek  has  been  variously  ex- 
plained. The  choice  is  thought  to  lie  between  "rolling  the 
eyes"  and  "sparkling-eyed."  It  is  not  the  color  of  the  eye 
that  is  meant,  but  vivacity  and  youthful  brightness. 

143.  Clytaemnestra.  Wife  of  Agamemnon.  Upon  Aga- 
memnon's return  to  Mycene  he  was  murdered  by  her,  and  the 
murder  was  avenged  by  her  son  Orestes. 

151-154.    Agamemnon's  demand  for  a  fresh  prize  of  honor 


NOTES  135 

is  not  mere  selfishness  and  avarice.  It  is  clear  throughout  the 
Iliad,  says  Leaf,  that  it  is  in  the  public  gifts,  which  are  the 
signs  of  preeminence,  that  the  point  of  honor  lies  ;  to  lose  such 
a  meed  of  honor  is  a  disgrace  as  well  as  a  material  loss.  So 
Achilles  himself  requires  (XXIV.,  175)  that  if  he  is  to  give  up 
the  body  of  Hector,  he  shall  receive  the  ransom  ;  by  so  doing  he 
does  not  diminish  the  grace  of  his  act,  but  only  saves  himself 
from  the  reproach  of  weakness.  It  is  important  that  this  should 
be  kept  in  view  throughout  the  Iliad. 

158-159.  During  the  past  years  of  the  siege  raids  had  been 
made  upon  the  neighboring  cities  of  the  Troad. 

177.  mighty  Ajax.  The  mightiest  of  the  Grecian  heroes, 
after  Achilles,  was  the  son  of  Telamon  and  cousin  of  Achilles. 
He  was  of  vast  stature  and  strength. 

187.   Creta's  king. .    Idomeneus. 

201.  Phthia.  The  chief  city  of  Thessaly,  land  of  Achilles 
and  his  myrmidons. 

228.   monarch's  right. 

"  There's  such  divinity  doth  hedge  a  king." 
Kings  are  frequently  called  Zeus-nurtured. 

231.    The  original  is  almost  exactly  equivalent  to  the  line  : 
"  Death  and  destruction  dog  thee  at  the  heels," 
addressed  by  Queen  Elizabeth  to  Dorset  in  King  Bichard  III. 
239.    Myrmidons.     The  followers  of  Achilles. 
266.    confess'd.     Revealed. 


136  NOTES 

298.  The  abusive  epithets  with  which  this  speech  is  charged 
are  characteristic  of  the  violence  of  Achilles  and  the  plain 
speaking  of  Homer,  which  Pope  too  often  tries  to  smooth  and 
to  make  respectable. 

309.  sacred  sceptre.  One  not  belonging  to  Achilles,  but 
which  is  handed  by  the  herald  to  the  speaker  as  a  sign  that  he 
is  in  possession  of  the  house.  Tylor  observes  that  in  the  Ellice 
Islands  in  the  Pacific  Ocean  the  natives  "preserved  an  old 
worm-eaten  staff,  which  in  their  assemblies  the  orator  held  in 
his  hand  as  the  sign  of  having  the  right  to  speak." 

315.  laws  and  justice.  Literally  precedents.  The  traditions 
are  deposited  as  a  sacred  mystery  in  the  keeping  of  the  kings. 
In  old  Iceland  and  Ireland  law  was  a  tradition  preserved  entirely 
by  the  special  knowledge  of  a  few  men. 

326.  golden  studs.  Nails  which  fastened  the  blade  to  the 
handle.     (Leaf.) 

331.  Nestor.  The  orator  of  the  Pylians.  Pylos  was  in  the 
Peloponnesus.  He  is  represented  as  having  lived  through  more 
than  two  generations  and  still  being  a  king  in  the  third  ;  that  is, 
between  his  seventieth  and  one  hundredth  years. 

347-357.  Pirithous.  King  of  the  Lapithse,  a  mythical  race 
of  Thessaly,  to  which  belonged  Dryas,  Ceneus,  and  Polyphemus 
(not  the  Cyclops).  Theseus,  king  of  Athens,  gave  friendly  aid 
to  Pirithous  in  the  war  which  is  referred  to  (line  357)  between 
the  Lapithge  and  the  Centaurs.  The  Centaurs  of  Homer  are 
simply  a  savage  people  ;  there  is  no  evidence  that  Homer  con- 
ceived them  the  monsters  of  Greek  fable. 


NOTES  137 

355-357.  Notice  the  substitution  of  the  triplet  for  the  dis- 
tich. 

371.  join'd.  Not  an  imperfect  rhyme  in  Pope's  time,  nor  in 
some  places  in  our  own.  Whittier  is  true  to  the  New  England 
ear  when  he  rhymes  line — join. 

412.  The  sea  was  regarded  by  the  Greeks  as  a  great  cere- 
monial purifier.  The  meaning  is  that  the  Achaians  w^ashed  in 
the  sea  so  that  it  might  carry  off  the  defilements  which  were 
typical  of  their  sin.  Probably  they  had  during  the  pestilence 
abstained  from  ablution,  and  cast  dust  on  their  heads  in  sign  of 
mourning.  It  was  no  doubt  by  a  survival  from  Greek  times 
that  the  Neapolitans  used,  even  down  to  1580  a.d.,  to  perform 
once  a  year  a  ritual  ablution  in  the  sea.     (Leaf.) 

421.  Talthybius  and  Eurybates.  Legendary  names  of  heralds 
generally.  The  former  was  the  name  of  the  hereditary  heralds 
of  Sparta,  the  latter  that  of  the  herald  of  Odysseus. 

460.  parent  goddess.     He  cries,  and  his  goddess-mother  hears 

him  — 

"  Beside  her  aged  father  where  she  sat, 
In  the  deep  ocean-caves." 

It  is  the  original  of  our  own  Milton's  beautiful  invocation  in 
"  Comus  "  —  the  rough  simple  outline  on  wiiich  he  has  painted 
with  a  grace  and  fulness  which  make  it  all  his  own  — 

"  Sabriua  fair  ! 

Listen,  where  thou  art  sitting 
Under  the  glassy,  cool,  translucent  wave, 

In  twisted  braids  of  lilies,  knitting 
The  loose  train  of  thy  amber-dropping  hair; 


138  :n^otes 

Listen  for  dear  honour's  sake, 
Goddess  of  the  silver  lake, 
Listen,  and  save!  " 

Thetis  hears,  and  rises  on  the  sea  —  "  like  as  it  were  a  mist"  — 
(the  "White  Lady  of  Avenel"),  caresses  him  soothingly  with 
her  hand,  as  though  the  stalwart  warrior  were  still  a  child 
indeed,  and  asks  him  the  simple  question  which  all  mothers, 
goddesses  or  not,  would  put  into  much  the  same  words,  —  "  I\Iy 
son,  why  weepest  thou  ?  "     (Collins.) 

461.  severe  a  doom.  Achilles  had  been  given  the  choice  of 
a  long  inglorious  life  or  a  brief  career  full  of  honor.  The  doom 
is  stated  in  Book  IX.  :  — 

"  My  fates  long  since  by  Thetis  were  disclos'd. 
And  each  alternate,  life  or  fame,  propos'd  ; 
Here  if  I  stay  before  the  Trojan  town. 
Short  is  my  date,  but  deathless  my  renown  : 
If  I  return,  I  quit  immortal  praise 
For  years  on  years  and  long-extended  days." 

469.  aged  Ocean.  In  later  mythology,  Nereus,  but  the  name 
does  not  occur  in  Homer,  who  has  merely  "her  aged  sire." 

478.  Thebe.     A  town  in  the  Troad. 

479.  Eetion.     The  father  of  Andromache,  killed  by  Achilles. 
515-529.    "  This  strange  legend  of  the  binding  of  Zeus  is  not 

known  from  other  sources,  nor  is  it  again  mentioned  in  Homer, 
although  there  are  numerous  allusions  to  battles  and  quarrels 
among  the  gods,  and  to  the  previous  dynasty  of  the  Titans,  who 
are  now  banished  to  Tartarus.  It  is  particularly  strange  to  find 
Athene  in  revolt  against  her  father,  in  alliance  with  Ikra,  and 


NOTES  139 

the  primitive  earth-power  Briareus  on  the  side  of  Zeus.  Nor  do 
we  find  elsewhere  in  Homer  any  such  monstrous  conception  as 
that  of  a  being  with  a  Imndred  arms.''     (Leaf.) 

519.  warlike  maid.  ^linerva.  monarch  of  the  main.  Xep- 
tune. 

531.  Embrace  his  knees.  Suppliants  threw  thenaselves  at  the 
feet  of  the  person  to  whom  the  supplication  was  addressed  and 
embraced  his  knees,  at  the  same  time  putting  the  right  hand 
beneath  his  chin.  See  line  650.  It  has  been  suggested  that  the 
origin  of  the  custom  is  in  the  action  of  the  wounded  warrior 
who  with  the  left  arm  clasps  the  knee  of  his  victor  to  hamper 
his  movement,  and  with  the  right  hand  turns  aside  his  face  so 
that  he  cannot  aim  the  fatal  blow  until  he  has  heard  the  appeal 
for  mercy. 

555.  warm  limits.  Oceanus,  the  great  stream  that  flows 
round  the  world. 

557.  .^Ethiopia's  blameless  race.  The  ^Ethiopians  dwelt  on 
the  extreme  limits  of  the  world,  on  the  stream  of  Ocean. 
Whenever  Homer  alludes  to  the  Ethiopians,  it  is  always  in 
terms  of  admiration  and  praise.  They  are  famed  for  their  piety, 
and  the  gods  often  make  journej's  to  enjoy  their  feasts.  George 
Eliot  suggests  that  the  Ethiopians  were  -'blameless"  because 
they  lived  so  far  off  that  they  had  no  neighbors  to  criticise  them. 

576.    dome.     House,  or  temple.     Latin  :  Domus. 

586,  587,  600-613.  A  most  exact  account  of  the  ancient  sac- 
rifices :  first,  the  purification  by  the  washing  of  hands  ;  second, 
the  offering  up  of  prayers  ;  third,  the  barley-cakes  thrown  upon 


140  NOTES 

the  victim  ;  fourth,  the  manner  of  killing  it,  with  the  head  turned 
upwards  ;  fifth,  selecting  the  thighs  and  fat  for  their  gods,  as 
the  best  of  the  sacrifice,  and  disposing  about  them  pieces  cut 
from  every  part  for  a  representation  of  the  whole  ;  sixth,  the 
libation  of  wine  ;  seventh,  consuming  the  thighs  in  the  fire  of 
the  altar ;  eighth,  the  sacrificers  dressing  and  feasting  on  the 
rest,  with  joy  and  hymns  to  the  gods. 

609.    instruments.     Five-tined  flesh-hooks. 

619.  Paeans.  Hymns  to  propitiate  the  god  (originally  sung 
in  honor  of  Apollo)  ;  also  a  song  of  thanksgiving.  It  was  sung 
by  several  persons. 

630.  "  It  was  the  custom  to  draw  the  ships  entirely  upon 
the  shore,  and  to  secure  them  by  long  props."     (Felton.) 

683-687.  Literally  rendered  the  passage  reads  :  "  The  son  of 
Kronos  spoke,  and  bowed  his  dark  brow,  and  the  ambrosial 
locks  waved  from  the  king's  immortal  head  ;  and  he  made  great 
Olympus  shake."  It  is  said  (by  Strabo)  that  this  description 
inspired  Phidias  with  the  conception  of  his  famous  statue  of 
Zeus  at  Olympia. 

714.   Saturnius.     Son  of  Saturn  (Kronos). 

719.    consult.     How  used  and  how  accented  ? 

731.    An  intrusion  of  Pope's  philosophy,  not  Homer's. 

736.  "The  scene  between  Zeus  and  Hera  is  typical  of  the 
spirit  in  which  Homer  treats  the  deities  of  Olympia.  It  is,  to 
say  the  least,  not  reverent,  and  far  removed  from  any  concep- 
tion of  primitive  piety.  It  is,  indeed,  one  among  many  signs 
that  the  civilization  of  the  heroic  age  was  old  and  not  young  — 


NOTES  141 

a  civilization  which  was  outgrowing  the  simple  faith  of  its 
ancestors.  It  has  often  been  pointed  out  with  truth  that  the 
humor  of  Homer  is  almost  entirely  confined  to  the  scenes  in 
Olympos,  which  seem  to  be  treated  as  a  fit  opportunity  for  the 
display  of  passions  which  would  be  beneath  the  dignity  of  heroes. 
Even  in  morality  the  tone  of  Olympos  is  distinctly  beneath  that 
of  earth.  Mr.  Gladstone  has  well  remarked  that  not  one  of  the 
gods  can  be  called  as  distinctly  good  as  the  swineherd  Eumaios. 
741.  architect  divine.  Fabled  to  be  the  fashioner  of  the 
Olympian  palaces. 

753.  double  bowl.  Pope  evidently  has  in  mind  the  bowl 
with  a  cup  at  each  end  which  was  seen  upon  the  table  in  Queen 
Anne's  time.  It  is,  however,  a  two-handed  cup,  such  as  has 
been  found  at  Hissarlik  and  Mykenai, 

760.   Refers  to  an  old  fable  of  Jupiter's  hanging  up  Juno  and 
flogging  her. 
700-765. 

"  Xor  was  his  name  unheard  or  unadored 
In  ancient  Greece  :  and  in  Ausonian  land 
Men  called  him  Mulciber  ;  and  how  he  fell 
From  heaven  they  fabled,  thrown  by  angry  Jove 
Sheer  o'er  the  crystal  battlements ;  from  morn 
To  noon  he  fell,  from  noon  to  devry  eve, 
A  summer's  day :  and  with  the  setting  sun 
Dropped  from  the  zenith,  like  a  falling  star. 
On  Lemnos,  the  ^Egean  isle."  —  Paradise  Lost,  I.,  738. 
765.    Sinthians.      The  inhabitants    of    Lemnos,   an  island 
sacred  to  Hephaistos  because  of  the  volcano  Mosychlos.     Their 
name  is  derived  from  their  piratical  habits. 


142  NOTES 

771.  The  lame  Vulcan,  assuming  the  office  of  Hebe  or  Gany- 
mede, stops  the  heavenly  quarrel  by  making  himself  the  subject 
of  merriment. 

BOOK   VI 

Of  all  the  Iliad  this  incomparable  book  attains  the  grandest 
heights  of  narrative  and  composition,  of  action  and  pathos. 
Nowhere  else  have  we  so  perfect  a  gallery  of  types  of  human 
character  ;  the  two  pairs,  Hector  and  Paris,  Helen  and  Androma- 
che, in  their  truthfulness  and  contrast,  form  a  group  as  subtly 
as  they  are  broadly  drawn  ;  while,  on  the  other  hand,  the 
"battle  vignettes"  with  which  the  book  opens,  and  the  culmi- 
nation of  the  scenes  of  war  in  the  meeting  of  Glaukos  and 
Dioraedes,  set  before  us  with  unequalled  vivacity  the  pride  of 
life  of  an  heroic  age,  the  refinement  of  feeling  which  no  fierce- 
ness of  fight  can  barbarize,  in  the  most  consummate  manner  of 
the  "great  style."     (Leaf.) 

5.  fam'd  streams.  Homer  names  the  Simois  and  Xanthus 
(which  men  call  Scamandar).  The  Simois  rose  in  Mount  Ida, 
and  the  Xanthus  near  Troy  ;  they  formed  a  junction  before 
they  reached  the  Hellespont. 

7.  Ajax.  The  son  of  Telamon  is  always  meant  by  Homer 
when  no  epithet  is  used  to  distinguish  him  from  the  other  Ajax, 
who  was  the  son  of  Oileus.  Ajax  commences  his  exploits  on 
the  departure  of  the  gods  from  the  battle.  It  is  observed  of  this 
hero  that  he  is  never  assisted  by  the  gods. 

9.  Notice  the  grammatical  construction  :  Falcion  is  the  sub- 
ject of  found  and  hewed. 


NOTES  113 

16.  Axylus  was  distinguished  for  his  hospitality.  This  tiuit 
was  characteristic  of  the  Oriental  nations,  and  is  often  alluded 
to  by  the  ancient  writers.  The  right  of  hospitality  often  united 
families  belonging  to  different  and  hostile  nations,  and  was  even 
transmitted  from  father  to  son.  This  description  is  a  fine  trib- 
ute to  the  generosity  of  Axylus.     (Felton.) 

24.  His  faithful  servant.  Calesius  was  the  driver  of  Axylus's 
chariot. 

28.   Naiad.     The  fountain-nymph  Abarbarea. 

36.  hell.   The  underworld. 

37.  Teucer.  Son  of  Telemon  and  step-brother  of  Ajax.  re- 
nowned for  his  archery. 

38.  Nestor's  son.     Antilochus. 
41.    Pedasus.     A  town  of  Mysia. 

46.    Spartan  spear.     In  the  hands  of  Menelaus. 

49.  tamarisk.  Not  a  large  tree,  as  Pope  imagines.  In  the 
original  the  horses  stumble  in  a  tamarisk's  bough  and  so  snap 
short  the  pole  of  the  chariot. 

61-62.  told.  Counted;  ieZ7an.  to  count.  Coined  money  was 
not  in  use  at  this  time.  The  gifts  for  ransom  are  bronze  and 
"  smithied  iron." 

80.  Pope  commenting  upon  the  fact  that  Agamemnon's 
cruelty  is  not  blamed  by  Homer  ascribes  it  to  the  uncivilized 
manners  of  those  times.  Homer  very  rarely  expresses  any 
moral  judgment  upon  the  action  of  his  characters.  The  liistori- 
cal  books  of  the  Old  Testament  abound  in  similar  crurlties  to 
conquered  enemies. 


144  NOTES 

88.  This  maxim  of  war,  "To  the  victor  belong  the  spoils," 
is  very  naturally  introduced.  According  to  Dacier  it  was  for 
such  lessons  as  these  that  Alexander  so  much  esteemed  Homer. 

91.   Helenus.     Son  of  Priam. 

108.   our  mother.     Hecuba. 

113.  mantle.  Helenus  directs  Hector  to  enter  the  city  and 
cause  the  Trojan  women  to  assemble  in  the  temple  of  Minerva 
with  a  robe  or  peplos  for  a  propitiatory  offering,  and  to  promise 
a  sacrifice  if  Athene  will  stay  the  victorious  progress  of  Aga- 
memnon. In  one  of  the  scenes  portrayed  in  the  frieze  of  the 
Parthenon  a  peplos  is  solemnly  brought  to  the  goddess  by  the 
city  of  Athens. 

145.  Hector's  shield  reaches  from  the  ankles  to  the  neck. 
It  was  composed  of  layers  of  ox-hide  covered  with  metal.  The 
hides  were  turned  up  at  the  outer  edge  of  the  shield  to  form  a 
rim  and  so  prevent  any  friction  against  the  edge  of  the  metal 
facing.    Hector  walks  with  his  shield  hanging  at  his  back. 

148.  "The  episode  of  Glaucus  and  Diomedes  is  remarkable 
in  several  respects.  At  first  sight  it  seems  improbable  that  two 
combatants,  eager  to  engage,  should  hold  a  dialogue  of  this 
description  ;  and  accordingly  we  find  a  writer  in  the  Edinburgh 
lieview  objecting  to  and  ridiculing  it  as  in  the  highest  degree 
absurd.  It  must  be  remembered  that  Homer  is  describing  the 
manners  of  an  ancient  heroic  age  and  not  the  nineteenth  cen- 
tury. His  battles  are  not  like  those  of  Waterloo  and  Austerlitz, 
the  result  of  scientific  calculation,  and  dependent  on  the  move- 
ments of  masses  of  men,  giving  but  little  scope  to  individual 
prowess  and,  above  all,  are  not  decided  by  powder  and  bullet. 


NOTES  145 

They  are  the  battles  of  an  age  of  simplicity,  in  which  the  per- 
sonal valour  of  the  chieftains  bore  a  distinguished  share.  It 
happened  not  infrequently  that  opposing  chieftains  singled  each 
other  out  and  fought  hand  to  hand,  after  holding  parley  and 
making  various  interrogations  of  each  other.  This  has  indeed 
occurred  in  the  skirmishing  warfare  of  the  last  Greek  Revolu- 
tion. We  have  before  adverted  to  the  right  of  hospitality.  It 
cannot  be  deemed  improbable  that  two  warriors,  whose  fathers 
had  exchanged  courtesies  and  pledges  of  this  description,  should 
meet  on  the  field  of  battle  and  upon  inquiry  find  themselves 
thus  bound  together.  The  peculiar  sacredness  of  this  tie  would 
cause  them  at  once  to  suspend  hostilities  and  perhaps  exchange 
tokens  of  friendly  recognition.  On  the  whole  this  episode,  so 
far  from  being  an  unnatural  and  improbable  excrescence,  is  a 
relief  to  the  carnage  and  confusion  of  the  battle  and  presents  a 
beautiful  picture  of  that  feature  of  ancient  society  which  has 
already  been  the  subject  of  remark."     (Felton.) 

150.  mark'd  for  war.  i.e.  for  single  combat,  as  in  "  Sohrab 
and  Rustum." 

IGl.  The  home  of  Lycurgus  was  in  Thrace  ;  ' '  Nyssa's  sacred 
grove"  is  not  geographical.  He  drove  Bacchus,  Dionysos,  and 
his  followers  (Bacchantes)  from  his  domains  and  was  punished 
by  Zeus  with  blindness.  The  "  consecrated  spears  "  (line  165) 
should  be  '-wands"  or  staves  wreathed  with  ivy,  which  were 
carried  by  the  Mienads,  or  Bacchantes. 

191.    iEolian.     Son  of  ^Eolus. 

193.    Ephyre.     The  early  name  of  Corinth. 

201.   Antea.    The  wife  of  Proetus. 


146  NOTi:s 

208.  "Proetus,  unwilling  himself  to  violate  the  laws  of  hos- 
pitality by  killing  a  guest,  sends  him  to  Antea's  father,  lobates, 
who  likewise  after  entertaining  Bellerophon  shrinks  from  slay- 
ing him  and  sends  him  into  perils  which  he  expects  to  prove 
fatal." 

210.  This  passage  raises  the  important  question  of  the  knowl- 
edge of  writing  in  Homeric  times.  It  seems  impossible  to  deny 
that  such  a  knowledge  is  implied.  The  "folded  tablet"  seems 
to  show  that  the  message  might  have  been  intelligible  to  Beller- 
ophon if  it  had  not  been  concealed;  the  "many  deadly''  (lit- 
erally soul-destroying)  "things"  implies  a  real  message,  not  a 
mere  picture  or  conventional  sign  of  a  murder  or  the  like.  It 
is  further  clear  that  the  use  of  such  a  letter  of  introduction  was 
regular,  for  the  king  asks  to  see  it  as  a  matter  of  course.  This 
is,  in  fact,  just  an  example  of  the  way  in  which  we  might  sup- 
pose writing  to  have  been  introduced  into  Greece.  It  seems  to 
be  regarded  as  a  strange  accomplishment,  for  the  adjective 
"soul-destroying"  implies  a  sort  of  magical  power,  such  as 
always  is  ascribed  to  writing  by  savages  who  are  not  practically 
acquainted  with  it.  It  is  known  only  to  a  royal  family  con- 
nected with  Asia  Minor,  and  it  is  to  Asia  Minor  that  we  are 
being  more  and  more  led  by  recent  researches  to  look  for  the 
introduction  of  the  higher  culture  into  Greece.  There  is  there- 
fore no  reason  for  doubting  that  the  knowledge  of  the  art  had 
gone  so  far  as  this  passage  indicates  long  before  the  Dorian 
invasion.  This,  of  course,  is  far  from  justifying  us  in  suppos- 
ing that  an  Achaian  poet  would  be  able  to  use  writing  for  the 
composition  of  a  long  poem,  though  it  does  show  that  this  is  not 


NOTES  147 

impossible.  If  we  ask  what  sort  of  writing  this  coukl  have  bi-f-n. 
we  naturally  think  of  the  Cypriote  syllabary.  It  is  hardly 
likely  that  the  Phoenician  alphabet,  the  foundation  of  later 
Greek  writing,  had  been  yet  introduced,  for  the  traces  of  Phoe- 
nician influence  on  the  Achaian  world  are  very  few  and  slight, 
just  as  the  mention  of  the  Phoenicians  in  the  Iliad  is  rare.  The 
Cypriote  syllabary,  on  the  other  hand,  must  have  been  known 
at  an  early  date  throughout  xVsia  Minor,  if  Professor  Sayce  is 
right  in  recognizing  it  on  wdiorls  from  Hissarlik.  We  may 
thus  provisionally  suppose  it  to  be  alluded  to  here  in  the  hope 
of  further  discoveries  to  elucidate  this  all-important  point.  The 
other  alternative  is  that  the  writing  may  have  been  Egyptian, 
for  it  is  daily  becoming  more  clear  that  the  Achaians  had  been 
acquainted  with  Egj'pt  from  a  date  long  anterior  to  the  Homeric 
poems,  and  it  is  likely  enough  that  they  may  have  picked  up 
some  knowledge  of  the  use  of  hieroglyphs.  In  fact,  a  few 
P^gyptian  inscriptions  are  the  only  traces  of  writing  which  have 
as  yet  been  found  in  Mykenai. 

215.  According  to  the  ancient  custom  of  hospitality  the  guest 
was  entertained  before  he  was  questioned  as  to  his  name  and 
message.  Alkinoos  entertained  Odysseus  a  whole  day  before 
asking  him  his  name. 

219.  Chimaera.  The  only  instance  in  Homer  of  the  fabulous 
mixed  monsters  of  later  Greek  mythology. 

226.  prodigies.     Portents. 

227.  Solymaean  crew.  The  primitive  inhabitants  of  Lykia. 
who  w^ere  driven  by  the  Lycians  (from  Crete)  into  the  mountains. 

229.    Amazons.     A  race  of  warrior  women. 


148  NOTES 

242.  Homer  names  tliem:  Isandros,  Hippoloclios,  and 
Laodameia. 

247.  Aleian  field.  The  "Plain  of  Wandering"  was  believed 
to  be  in  Cilicia.  The  tradition  evidently  was  that  Bellerophon 
became  mad, 

250.  Phoebe's  dart.  Sudden  death.  Women  died  painlessly 
when  smitten  by  Phoebe  (Diana) . 

251.  He  died  in  battle. 

274.   Tyrian  dye.     Royal  purple. 

277-278.  Refers  to  the  expedition  of  the  "Seven  against 
Thebes." 

290.  Leaf  remarks:  "This  curious  ending  to  a  delightful 
episode  seems  almost  like  a  burlesque,  and  is  hard  to  understand. 
Elsewhere  in  Homer  the  only  characters  treated  with  distinctly 
humorous  intention  are  the  gods."  Pope  mistranslates  in  line 
201  when  Homer  says  that  "  Zeus  took  from  Glaukos  his  wits." 

297.  Scagan  gate.  The  great  gate  of  the  city  through  which 
the  Trojans  went  forth  to  battle. 

298.  beech-tree.     Oak-tree  in  Homer. 

314.    Laodice.     Daughter  of  Hecuba. 

318.  "  There  is  a  mournfulness  in  the  interview  between  the 
hero  and  his  mother  which  is  deeply  interesting.  Her  urging 
him  to  take  wine  and  his  refusal  were  natural  and  simple  inci- 
dents wliich  heighten  the  effect  of  the  scene."     (Felton.) 

329-383.  This  homily  upon  temperance  belongs  to  Pope  not 
to  Homer.     The  original  has  "  bring  me  no  honey-hearted  wine, 


NOTES  149 

my  mother,  lest  thou  cripple  me  of  my  courage,  and  I  be  forget- 
ful of  my  might." 

362-363.  Tyre  and  Sidon  were  famous  for  works  in  gold, 
embroidery,  etc.,  and  for  whatever  pertained  to  magnificence 
and  luxury. 

371.  Palladian  dome.  Dome  (or  temple)  of  Pallas  (Mi- 
nerva) . 

372.  Theano.  Sister  of  Hecuba,  and  daughter  of  Cisseus,  a 
prince  of  Thrace. 

395.  ten  cubits.  Sixteen  feet  {eleven  cubits,  as  in  Homer) 
was  not  an  unusual  length  for  a  spear.  Xenophon  speaks  of 
one  fifteen  cubits,  or  twenty-two  feet. 

396.  ringlets.  Meant  to  hold  the  head  of  the  spear  in  place 
and  prevent  the  wood  from  splitting. 

399-401.  "The  employment  in  which  Hector  finds  Paris 
engaged  is  extremely  characteristic."  (Felton.)  Paris  carries 
his  foppish  airs  into  the  affairs  of  war. 

403.   instructs  their  hands.     Working  at  the  loom. 

466.  second  joy.     That  is,  after  her  husband. 

467.  Astyanax.  The  only  son  of  Hector.  The  name  means 
"defender  of  the  city,"  as  Hector  means  "protector."  See 
lines  501-503. 

491.  Here  we  are  introduced  to  the  second  female  character 
in  the  poem.  It  is  as  the  wife  and  mother  that  Andromache 
charms  us.  It  has  been  remarked  that  Homer  never  applies  to 
her  any  epithet  implying  personal  attractions,  though  all  his 
translators,  Lord  Derby  included,  have  been  tempted  to  do  so. 


150  NOTES 

Hector  meets  her  at  the  Scseaii  gate  with  the  nurse  and  the 
child.  The  father  looks  silently  on  his  boy  and  smiles;  An- 
dromache in  tears  clings  to  her  husband  and  makes  a  pathetic 
appeal  to  him  not  to  be  too  prodigal  of  a  life  which  is  so  dear 
to  his  wife  and  child.  He  is  now  "her  father,  mother,  brother, 
husband," — her  all.  "The  incidents  which  follow  are  simple 
but  requisite.  Hector  wishes  to  take  in  his  arms  his  beloved 
son  ;  but  the  child,  terrified  by  the  glittering  armor  and  the 
waving  crest,  clings  to  the  bosom  of  the  nurse.  This  calls  a 
smile  upon  the  countenance  of  the  parents,  who  are  thus,  by  a 
happy  stroke  of  nature,  made  to  forget,  for  a  single  moment, 
the  gloomy  state  of  public  affairs  in  affection  for  their  offspring. 
Hector  lays  upon  the  ground  his  shining  helmet,  caresses  his 
son,  and  utters  a  prayer  becoming  a  patriot  and  warrior.  He 
places  the  child  in  the  arms  of  his  wife,  who  receives  him  upon 
her  'fragrant  bosom,'  smiling  tearfully.  This  is  one  of  the 
most  beautiful  expressions  to  be  found  in  any  language.  It  is 
concise  yet  distinct,  and  presents  a  perfect  image  of  mingled 
gentleness  and  sadness.  It  fills  the  imagination  and  touches 
the  heart."     (Felton.) 

528-530.  Pope  amplifies  Homer,  who  has  "burnt  him  in 
his  inlaid  armour  and  raised  a  barrow  over  him  ;  and  all  about 
were  elm-trees  planted  by  the  mountain  nymphs,  daughters  of 
segis-bearing  Zeus."  It  was  a  universal  custom  among  the 
primitive  Aryan  nations  to  bury  a  warrior's  arms  with  his  dead 
body.     Swords  have  been  found  in  graves  at  Mykenai. 

539.  Hippoplacia.  MorecorrectlyHyppoplacia,  another  name 
for  Phcebe. 


NOTES  151 

583.  Hyperia's  spring.  Homer  says  "from  fount  Messeis 
or  Hyperia."  The  former  is  in  Laconia,  the  latter  in  Thessaly. 
"The  mention  of  these  with  Argos  may  perliaps  indicate  Mene- 
laos  of  Sparta,  Achilles  of  Thessaly,  and  Agamemnon  of  Argos 
as  the  three  probable  masters  of  Andromache."  (Doderlein.) 
Later  tradition  has  it  that  Andromache  became  the  prize  of 
Xeoptolemus,  son  of  Achilles. 

676-679.  Hector  resumes  his  hope  of  success  and  his  spirit  is 
roused  again  as  he  approaches  the  field  of  battle.  The  close  of 
the  book  in  Homer  is  much  stronger  than  in  Pope's  poor  para- 
phrase. '-All  this  will  we  make  good  hereafter,  if  Zeus  ever 
vouchsafe  us  to  set  before  the  heavenly  gods,  that  are  for  ever- 
lasting, the  cup  of  deliverance  in  our  halls,  when  we  have  chased 
out  of  Troyland  the  well-greaved  Achaians." 

BOOK  XXII 

The  preceding  book  closed  with  Achilles  in  pursuit  of  Apollo, 
who  had  assumed  the  disguise  of  the  Trojan  Agenor  in  order  to 
draw  Achilles  away  from  the  field  of  battle,  that  the  Trojans 
might  have  an  opportunity  to  retreat  into  the  city. 

6.  roof  of  shields.  The  Greeks  held  their  shields  above  their 
heads  for  protection  against  missiles  thrown  from  the  walls. 

30.  Homer  makes  Achilles  say  to  Apollo  in  wrath :  "  Verily, 
I  would  avenge  me  on  thee  had  I  but  the  power." 

39.   Orion's  dog.     Sirius  in  the  constellation  canis  major,  so 

called  from  its  proximity  to  the  constellation  Orion.     When 
Sirius  rose  with  the  sun  in  summer  it  was  supposed  to  exert  an 


152  NOTES 

evil  influence,  to  cause  fevers,  etc.  Hence  this  time  of  year 
was  called  the  canicular  or  dog  days.  Weighs  means  presses 
to  its  close. 

43.  "  With  how  much  dreadful  Pomp  is  Achilles  here  intro- 
duced ?  How  noble,  and  in  what  hold  colours  hath  he  drawn 
the  blazing  of  his  Arms,  the  Rapidity  of  his  Advance,  the  Terror 
of  his  Appearance,  the  Desolation  around  him,  but  above  all  the 
certain  Death  attending  all  his  motions  and  his  very  looks  ; 
what  a  crowd  of  terrible  Ideas  in  this  one  Simile  !  But  immedi- 
ately after  this  follows  the  moving  Image  of  the  two  aged 
Parents,  trembling,  weeping,  and  imploring  their  Son !  This  is 
succeeded  again  by  the  dreadful,  gloomy  picture  of  Hector,  all 
on  lire,  obstinate,  bent  on  Death,  and  expecting  Achilles,  ad- 
mirably painted  in  the  Simile  of  the  Snake  rolled  up  in  his 
Den  and  collecting  his  Poisons.  And  indeed  thro'  the  whole 
Book  the  wonderful  Contrast  and  Opposition  of  the  Moving  and 
of  the  Terrible  is  perpetually  kept  each  heightening  the  other. 
I  can't  find  words  to  express  how  so  great  Beauties  affect  me." 
(Pope.) 

45.    obtests.     Entreats. 

64.  mother.  Homer  names  her  Laothoe.  She  is  the  daugh- 
ter of  Altes  and  a  wife  of  Priam.  This  passage  is  quoted  as  a 
genuine  case  of  polygamy,  but  among  the  Trojans  only  ;  nothing 
of  the  sort  is  even  hinted  at  among  the  Homeric  Greeks.  The 
deaths  of  Polydore  and  Lycaon  are  described  at  the  end  of  Book 
XX.  and  the  beginning  of  XXI. 

69.  Lelegia's  throne.  The  Leleges  were  supposed  to  live  on 
the  coast  of  Asia  Minor  and  the  islands  of  the  iEgean. 


NOTES  153 

71.  Stygian  coast.  The  underworld,  inhabited  by  the  spirits 
of  the  dead. 

112.  The  zone  unbrac'd.  Hecuba  unfastened  the  brooch  by 
which  her  robe  was  fastened  over  the  right  shoulder.  This 
would  allow  the  upper  fold  of  the  front  of  the  robe  to  fall  so 
that  the  breast  would  be  shown. 

132.  The  poison  of  snakes  was  supposed  to  be  derived  from 
herbs  which  they  ate  when  about  to  attack. 

137.  This  speech  of  Hector  shows  the  fluctuation  of  his 
mind,  with  much  discernment  on  the  part  of  the  poet.  He 
breaks  out,  after  having  apparently  meditated  a  return  to  the 
city.  But  the  imagined  reproaches  of  Polydamas,  and  the  an- 
ticipated scorn  of  the  Trojans,  forbid  it.  He  soliloquizes  upon 
the  possibility  of  coming  to  terms  with  Achilles,  and  offering 
him  large  concessions  ;  but  the  character  of  Achilles  precludes 
all  hope  of  reconciliation.  It  is  a  fearful  crisis  with  him,  and 
his  mind  wavers,  as  if  presentiment  of  his  approaching  doom. 
(Felton.) 

140.  When  the  Greeks  were  fighting  for  the  corpse  of  Patro- 
clus,  Achilles  appeared  and,  shouting,  frightened  the  TrojaTis. 
Polydamas  advised  to  retire  within  the  city  for  the  night,  but 
Hector  favored  camping  on  the  field,  and  his  command  was 
obeyed. 

157.  terms  of  peace.     They  are  stated  in  lines  158-163. 

158.  Helen  and  the  treasure  that  was  carried  away  with  her. 

175.  The  Pelian  jav'lin.  Patroclus  when  putting  on  the 
armor  of  Achilles  "seized  two  strong  lances  that  fitted  his 


154  NOTES 

grasp,  only  he  took  not  tlie  spear  of  the  noble  son  of  ^acus, 
heavy  and  huge  and  stalwart,  that  none  other  of  the  Achaians 
could  wield,  but  Achilles  alone  availed  to  wield  it :  even  the 
ashen  Pelian  spear  that  Chiron  gave  to  his  father  dear,  from  a 
peak  of  Pelian,  to  be  the  death  of  warriors." 

180.  Hector's  sudden  flight  at  the  approach  of  Achilles  is 
one  of  the  most  extraordinary  incidents  of  the  Iliad.  Says  Mr. 
Andrew  Lang  :  "  In  a  saga  or  a  chanson  de  geste,  in  an  Arthu- 
rian romance,  in  a  Border  ballad,  in  whatever  poem  or  tale 
answers  in  our  Northern  literature,  however  feebly,  to  Homer, 
this  flight  round  the  walls  of  Troy  would  be  an  absolute  impos- 
sibility. Under  the  eyes  of  his  father,  his  mother,  his  country- 
men, Hector  flies  — the  gallant  Hector,  'a  very  perfect,  gentle 
knight'  — from  the  onset  of  a  single  foe."  But,  Mr.  Lang 
adds:  "Homer's  world.  Homer's  chivalry,  Homer's  ideas  of 
knightly  honor,  were  all  unlike  those  of  the  Christian  and  the 
Northern  world." 

Professor  Mahaffy,  on  the  other  hand,  regards  this  slur  and 
other  slurs  on  Hector's  courage  as  changes  wrought  by  alien 
hands  in  the  original  poem.  "  Why,"  he  asks,  "is  he  so  im- 
portant all  through  the  plot  of  the  poem  ?  Why  is  his  death  by 
Achilles  made  an  achievement  of  the  highest  order  ?  Why  are 
the  chiefs  who  at  one  time  challenge  and  worst  him,  at  another 
quaking  with  fear  at  his  approach  ?  Simply  because  in  the 
original  plan  of  the  Iliad  he  ivas  a  great  warrior,  and  because 
these  perpetual  defeats  by  Diomede  and  Ajax,  this  avoidance  of 
Agamemnon,  this  swaggering  and  'hectoring,'  which  we  now 
find  in  him,  were  introduced  by  the  eulargers  and  interpolators 


NOTES  155 

in  order  to  enhance  the  merits  of  their  favorites  at  his  expense." 
(Maxwell  and  Chubb.) 

189.   fore-right.     Eight  to  the  fore,  straight  ahead. 

193.  fig-trees.  They  have  been  mentioned  in  Book  VI.  as  a 
landmark.  The  wagon  road  runs  round  the  wall  at  a  short  dis- 
tance from  it.     Smoke.     Raise  a  dust  by  their  speed. 

201.  marble  cisterns.  Contrast  this  with  Homer's  "broad 
beautiful  washing-troughs  of  stone." 

241.    Tritonia.     Trito-born,  an  epithet  of  Athene  (Minerva). 

"  Tritonia's  airy  shrine  adorns 
Colouna's  cliff,  and  gleams  along  the  wave."  — Byron. 

247.   vapour.    Scent. 

251.  Dardan.  Dardan  is  frequently  equivalent  to  Trojan  or 
Ilian.  The  Dardanians  (usually  of  wider  designation  than 
Trojan)  were  led  by  ^neas. 

257.  "  The  inability  to  catch  and  escape  is  vividly  compared 
to  the  feeling  of  being  bound  to  pursue,  and  yet  of  being  rooted 
to  the  ground,  which  is  so  common  in  nightmare."  Cowper 
remarks  that  ' '  the  numbers  in  the  original  are  so  constructed 
as  to  express  the  painful  struggle  that  characterizes  such  a 
dream." 

276.   hell  receives  the  weight.     Hector  is  doomed  to  Hades. 

291.  Deiphobus.  Minerva  assumes  the  form  of  Hector's 
brother,  son  of  Priam  and  Hecuba. 

293.  show.     Appearance. 

294,  Mr.  Lang  says  :  "  It  is  remarkable  that  when  the  true 


156  NOTES 

poet  had  to  pit  against  each  other  a  courteous  and  patriotic 
warrior  like  Hector  and  a  young  hero  who,  like  Achilles,  is 
really  fighting  only  for  his  own  hand  and  his  private  passion,  he 
should  have  made  Hector  check  our  sympathy  by  his  flight,  and 
Achilles  even  more  unsympathetic  by  the  treacherous  aid  of 
Athene  than  by  his  own  relentless  and  savage  revenge."  To  a 
Greek  audience,  Mr.  Leaf  thinks :  "  The  presence  of  the  gods  on 
Achilles'  side  was  not  so  much  a  mere  extraneous  aid  as  a  tan- 
gible sign  that  Achilles  was,  after  all,  fighting  the  great  fight  of 
Hellenism  against  barbarism ;  it  is  a  reminder  that  the  action 
on  earth  is  but  a  reflexion  of  the  will  of  heaven,  and  exalts 
rather  than  belittles  those  to  whom  the  help  is  given."  "  It  is 
a  cardinal  rule  with  Homer,"  says  Mr.  Gladstone,  "that  no 
considerable  Greek  chieftain  is  ever  slain  in  fair  fight  by  a 
Trojan." 

348.  In  Book  XVIII. ,  Thetis,  Achilles's  mother,  had  told  him 
that  straightway  after  Hector's  death  was  death  appointed  unto 
him.  In  Book  XIX.,  his  horse  Xanthus,  gifted  for  the  moment 
with  human  speech  and  the  power  of  prophecy,  had  foretold 
that  his  master's  death-day  was  nigh  at  hand.  Mr.  John  Add- 
ington  Symonds  thinks  that  the  knowledge  of  his  own  approach- 
ing end  IS  the  key  to  the  terrible  ferocity  displayed  by  the  Greek 
chieftain.  "Stung  as  he  is,"  says  Mr.  Symonds,  "by  remorse 
and  by  the  sorrow  for  Patroclus,  which  does  not  unnerve  him, 
but  rather  kindles  his  whole  spirit  to  a  flame,  we  are  prepared 
to  see  him  fierce  even  to  cruelty.  But  when  we  know  that  in 
the  midst  of  the  carnage  he  is  himself  moving  a  dying  man, 
when  we  remember  that  he  is  sending  his  slain  foes  like  mes- 


NOTES  157 

sengers  before  his  face  to  Hades,  when  we  keep  the  warnmg 
words  of  Thetis  and  Xanthus  in  our  minds,  then  the  grim  frenzy 
of  Achilles  becomes  dignified.  The  world  is  in  a  manner  over 
for  him,  and  he  appears  the  incarnation  of  disdainful  anger  and 
revengeful  love,  the  conscious  scourge  of  God  and  instrument  of 
destiny." 

391.   Jove's  bird.     The  eagle. 

395.    fourfold  cone.     Four-plated  helmet. 

397.    Vulcanian  frame.     Forged  by  Vulcan. 

405-406.  Achilles  says,  lamenting  the  death  of  Patroclus 
(Book  XVIIT.)  :  "  Hector  that  slew  him  hath  stripped  from  him 
the  armour  great  and  fair,  a  wonder  to  behold,  that  the  gods 
gave  to  Peleus." 

436.  prevalence.    Efficacy. 

437.  ]\Ir.  Leaf  interprets  the  line:  "As  surely  as  I  cannot 
eat  thee  myself  so  surely  the  dogs  shall  eat  thee." 

452.  The  prophecy  is  fulfilled  when  Achilles  is  killed  by  a 
poisoned  arrow  shot  by  Paris  and  guided  by  Apollo. 

466.  The  admiration  expressed  for  the  beauty  of  the  corpse 
is  thoroughly  Greek. 

467.  The  mutilation  of  the  body  is  palliated  by  the  wide- 
spread belief  that  the  spirit  is  deprived  of  the  power  to  revenge 
when  the  body  is  mutilated. 

494.  The  full  text  of  this  song  of  triumph  is:  "  Great  glory 
have  we  won  ;  we  have  slain  the  noble  Hector,  unto' whom  the 
Trojans  prayed  throughout  their  city,  as  he  had  been  a  god." 


158  NOTES 

610.  This  notion  of  astrology  is,  of  course,  Pope's,  not 
Homer's. 

640.  The  idea  seems  to  be  that  an  orphan  is  deprived  of  the 
favor  of  the  gods  and  may  be  insulted  with  impunity.  This 
idea  still  lives  in  Albania,  where  at  the  marriage  ceremony  the 
marriage  loaf  must  be  baked  by  a  maid  whose  parents  are  alive 
or  she  will  bring  misfortune  to  the  wedded  pair. 

BOOK   XXIV 

"The  supreme  beauty  of  the  last  book  of  the  Iliads  and  the 
divine  pathos  of  the  dying  fall,  in  which  the  tale  of  strife  and 
blood  passes  away,  are  above  all  words  of  praise.  The  meeting 
of  Priam  and  Achilles,  the  kissing  of  the  deadly  hands,  and  the 
simplicity  of  infinite  sadness  over  man's  fate  in  Achilles'  reply, 
mark  the  high  tide  of  a  great  epoch  of  poetry.  In  them  we 
feel  that  the  whole  range  of  suffering  has  been  added  to  the 
unsurpassed  presentment  of  action  which,  without  this  book, 
might  seem  to  be  the  crowaiing  glory  of  the  IliacV     (Leaf.) 

1.  games.  The  funeral  games  in  honor  of  Patroclus  were 
described  in  Book  XXIII. 

20.    Achilles  wanders  aimlessly. 

25.  monument.  A  funeral  mound.  The  bones  of  Patroclus 
were  placed  in  the  tent  of  Achilles. 

33.  golden  shield.  Literally,  golden  segis :  a  perplexing 
passage,  for  the  segis  belongs  to  Zeus,  not  to  Apollo. 

34.  Hermes.  This  is  the  first  allusion  to  Mercury  as  a 
thieving  god. 


NOTES  159 

37.    Empress  Juno  (Hera). 

38-41.  This  is  the  sole  occasion  in  the  Iliad  where  any  allu- 
sion is  made  to  the  story  of  the  contest  of  beauty  and  the  judg- 
ment of  Paris,  which  led  to  the  flight  of  Helen. 

41.  Cyprian  queen.  So  called  from  the  island  where  Yenus 
was  first  worshipped. 

56-57.  Cowper  explains  that  shame  is  a  man's  blessing  if  he 
is  properly  influenced  by  it,  or  his  curse  in  its  consequences  if 
he  is  deaf  to  its  dictates.  Mr.  Leaf  says  that  the  Greek  word 
translated  shame  expresses  on  the  one  hand  the  respect  for  the 
opinion  of  men  which  we  call  sense  of  honor ;  on  the  other,  it 
can  stand  for  the  wrong  shame  or  want  of  proper  boldness, 
such  as  prevents  a  man  from  properly  doing  his  work  in  the 
world. 

96.   azure  queen.     Thetis. 

99.  Iris.  Goddess  of  the  rainbow  ;  the  messenger  of  Jupiter, 
as  Mercury  is  of  all  Olympus. 

103.   Samos.     Should  be  Samothrace. 

108.  This  remarkable  simile  is  badly  translated.  The  origi- 
nal reads:  "And  she  sped  to  the  bottom  like  a  weight  of  lead 
'that,  mounted  on  horn  of  a  field-ox,  goeth  down,  bearing  death 
to  the  ravenous  fishes."  It  would  appear  that  a  little  tube  or 
horn  was  passed  over  the  line  just  above  the  hook,  to  prevent 
the  fish  biting  it  through,  and  some  molten  lead  was  run  into 
the  tube  to  sink  it. 

112.  blue-hair'd  sisters.    The  Nereids. 


160  irof:E& 

146.  glory.  The  glory  accorded  to  Achilles  is  the  receipt  of 
gifts  wherein  the  heroic  point  of  honor  lies. 

285.    chargers.     Large  dishes. 

289-290.  Homer  says  more  clearly:  "Yet  not  that  even  did 
the  old  man  grudge  from  his  halls,  for  he  was  exceeding  fain  at 
heart  to  ransom  his  dear  son." 

311.    erring.     Errare,  to  wander. 

322.  This  is  the  only  time  when  Troilus,  a  favorite  charac- 
ter in  the  later  tale  of  Troy,  is  mentioned  in  the  Iliad. 

336.   ringlets.     Through  which  the  reins  were  passed. 

346.  The  car  conveying  the  presents  was  drawn  by  mules  ; 
the  other,  in  which  Priam  and  the  herald  rode,  was  drawn  by 
horses.  The  Mysians  of  northern  Asia  Minor  were  famous  for 
breeding  mules. 

359.    Zeus. 

361.    The  eagle. 

375.  the  mid  pavement.  That  is,  in  the  midst  of  the  court, 
because  the  altar  of  Zeus  is  there. 

390.    Percnos.     The  black  eagle. 

393.    dexter.    Appearing  on  the  right. 

418.   incumbent.     Resting  upon. 

430.  silver  spring.  Homer  says:  "At  the  river,"  that  is, 
Scamander. 

431.  Ilus'  ancient  marble.  The  barrow  or  tomb  of  Ilus, 
grandfather  of  Priam. 


KOTES  161 

457.   lines.     Lineaments,  features. 

552.  Pelides'  lofty  tent.  The  tent  of  Achilles  is  described 
as  though  it  were  a  palace.  It  has  a  hall  with  fore  court,  vesti- 
bule, and  colonnades,  and  is  at  times  spoken  of  as  a  house. 
This  indicates  a  complete  difference  of  view  from  the  rest  of  the 
Iliad. 

572.  his  son.  Neoptolemus ;  Alexander  the  Great  claimed 
descent  from  Achilles  through  this  son. 

586.  Of  these  lines  Pope  writes :  "I  fancy  this  Interview  be- 
tween Priam  and  Achilles  would  furnish  an  admirable  subject 
for  a  Painter,  in  the  Surprize  of  Achilles  and  the  other  specta- 
tors, the  attitude  of  Priam  and  the  sorrow  in  the  countenance  of 
this  unfortunate  king.  That  circumstance  of  Priam  kissing  the 
Hands  of  Achilles  is  inimitably  fine  ;  'he  kissed,'  says  Homer, 
'  the  Hands  of  Achilles,  those  terrible,  murderous  Hands  that 
had  robbed  him  of  so  many  Sons.'  By  these  two  words  the 
Poet  recalls  to  our  mind  all  the  noble  Actions  performed  by 
Achilles  in  the  whole  Ilias ;  and  at  the  same  time  strikes  us 
with  the  utmost  Compassion  for  this  unhappy  king  who  is  re- 
duced so  low  as  to  be  obliged  to  kiss  those  Hands  that  had  slain 
his  subjects  and  ruined  his  kingdom  and  family." — Pope's 
Horner^  1st  edition,  6,  211. 

598-63.3.  "The  whole  scene  between  Achilles  and  Priam, 
when  the  latter  comes  to  the  Greek  camp  for  the  purpose  of  re- 
deeming the  body  of  Hector,  is  at  once  the  most  profoundly 
skilful,  and  yet  the  simplest  and  most  affecting  passage  in  the 
Iliad.  .  .  .  Observe  the  exquisite  taste  of  Priam  in  occupying 
the  mind  of  Achilles,  from  the  outset,  with  the  image  of  his 


162  NOTES 

father ;  in  gradually  introducing  the  parallel  of  his  own  situa- 
tion ;  and,  lastly,  mentioning  Hector's  name  when  he  perceives 
that  the  hero  is  softened,  and  then  only  in  such  a  manner  as  to 
flatter  the  pride  of  the  conqueror.  .  .  .  The  whole  passage  de- 
fies translation,  for  there  is  that  about  the  Greek  which  has  no 
name,  but  which  is  of  so  fine  and  ethereal  a  subtlety  that  it  can 
only  be  felt  in  the  original,  and  is  lost  in  an  attempt  to  transfuse 
it  into  another  language."  —  H.  N.  Coleridge. 

745.  manes.  Belongs  to  Roman  mythology  and  means  the 
spirits  of  the  dead  regarded  as  divinities  of  the  household.  Here 
it  is  the  spirit  of  Patroclus. 

757-759.  As  Niobe  ate  in  her  extreme  grief,  and  she  is  the 
pattern  of  faithful  sorrow,  you  may  well  eat  without  appearing 
hard  of  heart. 

762.  Cynthia.  Diana,  so  called  from  Mount  Cynthus,  in  the 
island  of  Delos,  where  she  was  born. 

769.   inhume.     Bury. 

773.  herself  a  rock.  Pausanias  says  of  the  figure  of  Niobe 
on  Mount  Cipylas  near  Smyrna  :  "  The  rock,  seen  from  near  at 
hand,  is  a  precipice,  with  no  resemblance  to  a  woman,  mourning 
or  otherwise ;  but  if  you  go  farther  off  you  can  fancy  you  are 
looking  at  a  woman,  downcast,  and  bathed  in  tears."  Visitors 
to  Smyrna  are  still  shown  this  figure  rudely  carved  by  human 
hands. 

775.  AcheloUs.     A  river  of  Lydia. 

776.  wat'ry  fairies.  Fairies  and  their  rings  belong  to  mod- 
ern tradition.     It  is  the  water  nymphs  of  whom  Homer  speaks. 


NOTES  163 

862.   Xanthus.     Scamander. 

870.  Cassandra.  Daughter  of  Priam,  and  gifted  with  pro- 
phetic powers. 

900.    melancholy  choir.     The  professional  mourners. 

906.  '-The  affection  of  Hector  for  his  wife,  no  less  distin- 
guished than  the  passion  of  Achilles  for  his  friend,  has  made 
the  Trojan  prince  rather  than  his  Greek  rival  the  hero  of 
modern  romance."     (A.  J.  Symonds.) 

934-935.  These  two  lines  are  quoted  from  Congreve,  to 
whom  Pope  dedicated  this  translation. 

962.  "  Helen  is  throughout  the  Iliad  a  genuine  lady,  grace- 
ful in  motion  and  speech,  noble  in  her  associations,  full  of 
remorse  for  a  fault  for  which  higher  powers  seem  responsible, 
yet  grateful  and  affectionate  towards  those  with  whom  that 
fault  had  connected  her.  I  have  always  thought  the  following 
speech,  in  which  Helen  laments  Hector  and  hints  at  her  own 
invidious  and  unprotected  situation  in  Troy,  as  almost  the 
sweetest  passage  in  the  poem."     (Henry  Nelson  Coleridge.) 

1015-1016.  Literally  translated  the  last  line  of  the  Iliad 
reads:  "Thus  held  they  funeral  for  Hector,  tamer  of  horses," 
an  ending  worthy  in  its  majestic  simplicity  of  the  praise  with 
which  Cowper  takes  leave  of  a  task  to  which  he  had  been  in- 
debted for  the  smooth  and  easy  flight  of  many  thousand  hours. 
"  I  cannot  take  my  leave  of  this  noble  poem,"  he  says,  "with- 
out expressing  how  much  I  am  struck  with  this  plain  conclusion 
of  it.  It  is  like  the  exit  of  a  great  man  out  of  company  whom 
he  has  entertained  magnificently ;  neither  pompous  nor  familiar ; 


164  NOTES 

not  contemptuous,  yet  without  much  ceremony.  I  recollect 
nothing,  among  the  works  of  mere  man,  that  exemplifies  so 
strongly  the  true  style  of  great  antiquity." 

THE   TIME   OF   THE   ACTION 

I.,  71.  The  action  of  the  Iliad  occupies  altogether  fifty-one 
days,  the  distribution  of  which  will  show  the  argument  of  the 
poem.  The  plague  rages  nine  days ;  in  the  tents  take  place  the 
quarrel  between  Agamemnon  and  Achilles,  and  the  appeal  of 
the  latter  to  his  mother,  Thetis.  The  return  of  Zeus  is  expected 
on  the  twelfth  day  from  that  date  ;  on  the  twenty-first  day, 
therefore,  he  gives  the  promise  to  honor  Achilles  by  the  defeat 
of  the  Greeks,  upon  which  the  further  action  of  the  poem 
hinges.  On  the  morning  of  the  twenty-second,  after  the  agita- 
tion caused  by  the  dream  of  Agamemnon,  commences  the  first 
battle,  which,  with  the  single  combat  between  Paris  and  Mene- 
laus,  and  that  between  Hector  and  Ajax,  carries  on  the  poem 
as  far  as  Book  VII. ,  440.  On  the  next  morning  a  truce  is  made, 
and  the  burial  of  the  dead  and  the  construction,  on  the  Greek 
side,  of  a  fortification  in  front  of  their  camp,  occupy  that  and 
the  following  day.  On  the  twenty-fifth,  therefore,  Zeus  holds 
the  council  in  which  he  prohibits  divine  help  from  the  war 
altogether,  and  the  second  battle  is  begun  and  ended  at  night 
with  the  defeat  of  the  Greeks.  The  night  is  then  taken  up  by 
an  embassy  to  Achilles  and  by  a  raid  on  the  Trojan  camp,  in 
both  of  which  measures  Odysseus  bears  a  principal  part.  The 
twenty-sixth  is  the  day  of  the  third  battle,  which  commences 
evenly,  but  is  continued  by  the  storming  of  the  Greek  rampart 


NOTES  165 

(Book  XII.),  the  attack  on  the  fleet  (Books  XIII.-XV.),  its 
rescue  by  Patroclus  (Book  XVI.),  the  struggle  over  that  hero's 
body  (Book  XYIL),  and  the  final  retreat  of  Troy  before  the 
unarmed  Achilles  (Book  XYIII.).  On  the  twenty-seventh  day 
Achilles  receives  his  armor  and  is  reconciled  to  Agamemnon, 
and  before  the  evening  has  completed  his  revenge  with  the 
death  of  Hector  in  the  fourth  battle  of  the  poem.  The  next 
two  days  are  occupied  in  the  preparation  of  the  pyre  of  Patro- 
clus, in  the  burning  of  his  body,  and  in  the  games  held  in  his 
honor.  For  eleven  days  more  Achilles  continues  his  insults  to 
the  body  of  Hector,  so  that  it  is  not  till  the  evening  of  the  for- 
tieth day  that  Priam  comes  to  the  camp  for  its  recovery.  On 
the  morning  of  the  forty-first  he  returns  with  the  corpse  and 
with  the  promise  of  a  twelve  days'  truce.  Nine  days  are  then 
occupied  in  laments  and  preparations.  On  the  tenth  the  pyre 
of  Hector  is  built  and  burned,  and  on  the  eleventh,  or  fifty-first 
of  the  whole  action,  his  bones  are  interred  and  the  mound  above 
them  heaped.  The  night  of  that  day  is  spent  in  the  funeral 
feast,  and  the  war  is  expected  to  recommence  on  the  next 
morning.  —  J.  G.  Cordery. 


INDEX  TO   NOTES 


Acheloiis,  162. 

Achilles'  wrath,  129. 

iEolian,  lio. 

Ethiopia's  blameless  race,  139. 

Aged  Ocean,  138. 

Ajax,  135,  142. 

Aleian  field,  118. 

Amazons,  117. 

Andromache,  119. 

Antea,  145. 

Architect  divine,  141. 

Argos,  131. 

Around,  133. 

Astyanax,  149. 

Aton'd,  134. 

Atrides,  130. 

Axylus,  143. 

Azure  queen,  159. 

Beech-tree,  148. 
Black-ey'd  maid,  134. 
Blameless,  134. 
Blue-hair'd  sisters,  159. 
Brother-kings,  131. 

Calchas  the  wise,  134. 
Cassandra,  163. 


Chargers,  160. 
Chimsera,  147. 
Chryse'is,  131. 
Cilia  and  Chrysa,  132. 
Clytffimnestra,  134. 
Confess'd,  135. 
Consult,  140. 
Creta's  king,  1-35. 
Cynthia,  162. 
Cyprian  queen,  159. 

Dardan,  155. 
Deiphobus,  155. 
Dexter,  160. 
Dome,  139. 
Double  bowl,  141. 

Eetion,  138. 

Embrace  his  knees,  139. 

Empress  Juno,  159. 

Ephyre,  145. 

Erring,  160. 

Eury  bates,  137. 

Fair,  131. 

Faithful  servant,  143. 

Fam'd  streams,  142. 

167 


168 


INDEX    TO    NOTES 


Fig-trees,  155. 
Fure-right,  155. 
Fourfold  cone,  157. 

Games,  158. 

Glaucus  and  Diomedes,  144. 

Glory,  IGO. 

Golden  shield,  158. 

Golden  studs,  13(3. 

Hecatomb,  133. 

Hector's  shield,  144. 

Helen,  163. 

Helenus,  144. 

Hell,  143. 

Hell  receives  the  weight,  155. 

Hermes,  158. 

Herself  a  rock,  162. 

Hippoplacia,  150. 

Hyperia's  spring,  151, 

riad,  129. 

II us'  ancient  marble,  ICO. 

Incumbent,  160. 

Inhume,  162. 

Instructs  their  hands,  149. 

Instruments,  140. 

Iris,  159. 

Joined,  137. 
Jove's  bird,  157. 
Juno,  133. 

King  of  men,  130. 


Laodice,  148. 
Latona's  son,  130. 
Laws  and  justice,  136. 
Lelegia's  throne,  152. 
Lines,  161. 

Manes,  162. 
Marble  cisterns,  155. 
Mark'd  for  war,  145. 
Melancholy  choir,  163. 
Mid  pavement,  160. 
Monarch's  right,  135. 
Monument,  1,58. 
Mother  (Laothoe),  152. 
Myrmidons,  13;5. 

Naiad,  143. 
Neoptolemus,  161. 
Nestor,  136. 
Nestor's  son,  143. 
Niobe,  162. 

Obtests,  152. 
Orion's  dog,  151. 

Pffians,  140. 
Palladian  dome,  149. 
Parent  goddess,  137. 
Pedasus,  143. 
Pelian  jav'lin,  153. 
Pelides'  lofty  tent,  161. 
Percnos,  160. 
Pha'be's  dart,  148. 
Phrebus,  131. 
Phthia,  135. 


INDEX    TO    NOTES 


169 


Pirithous,  136. 
Pluto,  130. 

Poison  of  snakes,  153. 
Prevalence,  157. 
Prodigies,  li". 

Reign,  130. 
Rev'rend  priest,  130. 
Ringlets,  149,  160. 
Roof  of  shields,  151. 

Sacred  sceptre,  136. 

Sacrifices,  139. 

Samos,  159. 

Saturnius,  liO. 

Scsean  gate,  148. 

Sceptre  and   the  laurel  crown, 

130. 
Sea,  137. 
Second  joy,  149. 
Show,  1.55. 
Silver  spring,  160. 
Sinthians,  141. 
Sminthe\is,  132. 
Smoke,  155. 
Solymaeau  crew,  147. 
Soothsaying,  133. 
Spartan  spear,  143. 


Stygian  coast,  153. 

Talthybius,  137. 
Tamarisk,  143. 
Ten  cubits,  149. 
Terms  of  peace,  153. 
Teucer,  143. 
Theano,  149. 
Thebe,  138. 
Told,  143. 
Tritonia,  155. 
Troilus,  160. 
Tyre  and  Sidon,  149. 
Tyrian  dye,  148. 

Unburied  dead,  130. 

Vapour,  155. 
Vulcanian  frame,  1.57. 

Warlike  maid,  139. 

Warm  limits,  139. 

Wat'ry  fairies,  1G2. 

Writing  in  Homeric  times,  146. 

Xanthus,  163. 

Zone  unbraced,  153. 


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